Fire Without Smoke
by xTexasgalx
Summary: Don't ask the question when you can't accept the answer. Liley.
1. Fading Innocence

**A/N: Updates may be scarce what with school and nearby exams. I apologize beforehand. However, please feel more than free to leave your suggestions. As the author I love to hear what you think and what you'd like to see in my story. You're who I write for. **

**Rated M for language and … what else I'm not sure. **

**Disclaimer: I wish**

…………………………………………………………………………………

A pleasant tangible anxiety hangs over our heads as we scan our homework. School is inescapable but we both know it has to be done unless our future applications for college won't reflect our maximum potential. My guidance counselor once said that to me. Apparently I have the brains but I don't have the motivation. I remember scoffing and walking out of her claustrophobic office with her pathetic cries of: "Lillian! Lillian! What about your grades!" ringing in my ears.

Maybe it's just my stubborn nature. Maybe I'm not academically challenged.

That's why I'm trying to finish last weeks essay while Miley is scribbling ideas down for our current assignment: Lord of the Fly's. Having never read the book I have little opinion on shipwrecked children turning cannibalistic and trying to eat each other. I haven't even read the synopsis, how do I even know the basic plotline?

The book I'm holding loosely in my hands is about the darker side of our civilization, and the contrast between good and bad in every person. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde might have been enjoyable if it wasn't for the complicated language and strange ending.

Even though I should be writing (my deadline has been and gone) I can't concentrate on the book or the paper. Instead, I pick up my pen and twirl it idly in-between my fingers, glancing around my dining room. Since I've lived here my entire life nothing riveting catches my eye and I settle for a backwards sigh.

Miley looks up with an annoyed expression. I mouth an apology regarding my disgruntled noises and slouch down in the stiff chair. Why did my mom buy this table and chairs set? Not only are they butt ugly but they itch. I don't care what the auctioneer said. These may be authentic but its home not a museum. Maybe my family want to try treating it like a house and not like a sustainable historic building.

Once again I'm distracted but this time it's by Miley as she nibbles on the end of her pen in thought. Usually, in these silences I'd crack a joke or perform a witty anecdote about our day, but my mind remains blank. It's obvious she's working and I don't want to interrupt her. The thinking process she goes through is quite alluring to witness, and I watch her with rapt attention. Firstly, her eyes become unfocused and glassy. Secondly, she curls a fist under her chin, and finally she inhales and exhales in a meditation type state.

I find a word cropping into my mind that's not usually in my vocabulary. _Cute_. When Miley stops and thinks I find it endearing. With a small smile I pretend to look at my family portrait on the wall (me, mom, dad, older brother) but out of the corner of my eye I'm still staring at her. She quickly scribbles something down on the page, tongue sticking out of her the corner of mouth as she does so. Again that word springs to mind. _Cute_. When she makes that facial expression I find it hard to look away.

My hand twitches unexpectedly. A strand of hair has overlapped the side of her face, blurring one half of her vision. My heart lurches at this small movement and I find myself wanting to tuck it behind her ear for her. Admittedly, I've never been very girly and Miley's femininity appeals to me. Her hair in specific is the object of my admiration; it looks so long and shiny from any angle. However, before I can summon up the courage to reach across the table and finger her brunette waves, she deftly sweeps her hand up to the side of her face and holds it back as she scans the book.

Disappointedly, I tear my gaze away and reluctantly find the line I have read countless times. If I had the patience half of my essay could have been done by now. We could be doing something fun and exciting. _Exhilarating. _Spending time with Miley always seems to please me, though. The adrenaline rush I get when I'm near must be similar to exhilaration for she sure knocks the breath from my lungs.

"I know you haven't read the novel yet, Lilly, but I need a second opinion on this paragraph." Miley says and pushes her notepad over. It's pink with imprinted hearts on the top of every page. I smile at this. There's so much more to Miley than anyone could imagine, she has depths upon depth of meaning. That alone makes me want to be inside her head, share her thoughts and understand.

When a blind man regains his sight and praises God for the miracle, other people scoff and call it luck. Even though I'm not religious in any shape of form I can't help but think that maybe Miley is here for a bigger purpose. How else would that much perfection be among us flawed people?

Realizing that Miley is biting her lip in anticipation, I hastily read what she intended me to. If anything it makes me fall under more pressure. I have yet to write this.

Where were the days when life was without this burden of responsibilities? When did it change? Being a teenager is the answer to everything. Mood swings, zits, hormones. Growing up is a part of life, however leaving that childhood innocence behind is where the transformation really begins and adulthood is on the horizon. This change, this anticipation; does it explain why I feel so … so _different_. I only notice these foreign feelings when I'm with Miley. She stirs them up. Is it because we're both sixteen and going through the same physical and mental growth? Or is it … something else?

"Well!" Miley clasps her hands together and nods at her notepad in expectation.

With no word of a lie I hand it back to her and say, "A baby."

"Shut up," Miley smiles, her cheeks a little pink.

"What?" I laugh innocently and put all four chair legs on the wooden floor. "I couldn't even understand it. That's guaranteed full marks!"

Rolling her eyes, Miley takes the compliment and leans back.

For some reason she's more comfortable with dishing out praise than receiving it. I suspect it's to do with Hannah Montana and how she's treated with the blonde wig on. Maybe as Miley she prefers to turn the tables.

"How's Jekyll and Hyde?" Miley's voice turns sympathetic and I shrug with no commitment.

"A working progress." I reply bitterly and rub my temples. When she shows that she cares I feel light headed and it hurts.

"I can help you," she offers sincerely. "I don't want you to fail."

"Don't worry," I whisper as the throbbing deceases. "I'm not going anywhere." Her concern spurs me into the motivation I've been recently lacking. For Miley I'd withstand almost anything. I want her to be proud of me, the way I am for her since she has many great accomplishments.

After I higher my grade point average I want her to engulf me into a suffocating hug. Not having been the most feminine growing up what with my skateboarding and clothes, I'm not fully aware on how to initiate psychical touches. With Miley I feel connected to her. She's the only one I'm relaxed with while we touch. She'll grab my hand and I'll (jokingly) sit on her lap. That action always makes her giggle, it lights up her eyes with an unfamiliar glow.

The clock on the wall screams it late and I'm reluctant to inform Miley her dad will expect her home soon. Is it selfish that I don't want her to go? I'm a better person when she's around; don't take her away from me.

Frown lines are present on her forehead. They crinkle the features I admire from afar. However, even though she's obviously stressed I find it … alluring, enticing.

"Why don't you take a break?" I suggest and gently close my own book, "You don't have to finish it until next week and we're only on Thursday."

"Hmm." Miley mutters and pulls up her bra strap as it falls down her arm. Without even realizing it my mouth dries up. "I really need to get this done, Lil. The only way I can get a car is if I keep my grades up and my daddy has put his foot down on this one."

"You still need to take a break," I insist. Seeing her worked up in this manner makes me want to soothe her. Her life needs no more difficulties, as Lola Luftnagle I understand.

Miley looks at me suddenly and it makes me nervous. What is she thinking? Oh to be a mind-reader! But then the moments gone and she gathers her things and stands up.

I automatically guide her to the front door. If she wasn't holding her books and papers I might have grabbed her hand. Obviously I'm not a touchy-feely person but with Miley I want to make an exception. She's so touchable and untouchable at the same time. I can't explain it but the privilege to hold her makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. Yes, it makes me feel different but I do not ponder it. Never think about it.

My mom always said that the person who asks the question must be prepared for the answer. For now at least I don't dwell upon this change, this difference. I think I'm scared and unwilling to accept what it means.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" I lean against the door as she walks down the sidewalk. A shadowy figure under the setting sun.

"No, I'm fine." She smiles and waves and I watch her walk away, a little regretful she didn't want my company. However, she's probably just being polite by refusing my offer. I know Miley.

The sky above is a palette of neutral oranges and reds, splattered against a fading canvas. The Malibu sunset is like no other. A calming effect lingers over the vicinity; the beach is quiet. Distantly, waves are lapping against the shore but the sound of my rapidly beating heart drowns out any other noise.

Miley has disappeared from sight. Overhead the oranges and reds are replaced by dulcet grays and blacks. The canvas is no longer bright and positive but dark and forbidding. A tingle runs up and down my spine and I fold my arms and head back inside.

My parents are still at work. My dad is accounting, my mom is out shopping (she calls this work) and Matt, my older brother, is serving his shift at the local café. Once upon a time I might have been tempted to go and poke fun at him while he earns his wage but I feel hollow and empty. Miley has gone and her absence rains down like a storm.

Finding nothing more productive to do, I collapse on the couch and flick on the TV. This is only fun when Miley and I do it together. We'll sit here and throw pillows at the TV when our favorite reality show contestant has been kicked out, or coo over the latest guest star on whichever soap opera happens to be on. It's now I realize it's not the programme that is so entertaining but Miley herself.

Sighing, I walk into the kitchen instead. My appetite has gone. The casserole dish on the side creates an aura around it which I avoid and jog up the stairs in my room.

Opening the door, it screams individuality. The colors are bright and in-your-face. Miley says its pretty but I prefer to call it edgy. Needless to say it's messy and disorganized. Clothes litter the ground, my skateboard is propped up against my desk, posters and pictures splatter my wall. To Miley's amusement I have a huge Hannah Montana poster hung over my bed. I can't bring myself to tear it down, and besides it's a good one of her. I'm just being a supportive fan.

The real Miley is on the picture board on the wall and on my bedside table in multiple frames. Each one we're together, pulling stupid faces with our arms wrapped tight around each others bodies.

Just reminiscing through those memories makes me grin. Everyday with her is something to be cherished. We make memories wherever we go, whatever we do. We can be Hannah, Lola, Miley, Lilly or some unknown character and still be just _us_.

This one particular picture catches my eye. I pick up the frame and hold it securely as my eyes sweep over our still images. We're at the beach, the sun is shining and the ocean is gently stroking the land in the background. Being the affectionate girl she is Miley has her arms wrapped around my waist and is facing me sideways. I have my hands holding her arms in position and my mouth is open in a laugh as she kisses my cheek.

Where did those times go? Unexplainable changes have transpired since then, yet not one has been commented on. To pinpoint when it began to change is impossible. It just happened…

That fucking bitch! Who the hell does she think she is? Look at her! Just look at her! We're sat in science and Miley and I are sharing different worktops. Oliver is flicking his ruler so it makes an annoying sound right next to me and Jenny Brooke, a complete slut, is half sprawled across Miley's desk. Her stupid giggle sends my blood boiling, the way she looks at Miley makes my teeth grind, the way her beach blonde hair looks brittle and flat is the only sense of snugness I can achieve.

Seriously, what is her problem? Why does she need to be near Miley for any reason? They're not friends, they're not anything! From my position it looks like Jenny (the school whore!) is _flirting_ with her. And Miley isn't doing anything! Why doesn't she tell her where to get off and come over to me and insult her? I have a few words to say on the matter!

"What's your problem?" Oliver cluelessly asks me as he loads up the end of his ruler with bits of eraser he's picked off the end of his pencil. "You look like someone's pissed on your bonfire."

My hands clench and I round on him. "Oliver! The school whore is hitting on Miley! Don't you see that-" I grab his chin and yank it to face the source of my fury. "She's all over her like a disease or something!"

"Ouch!" Oliver rubs his face and shuffles away. "You didn't need to hurt me!"

Paying him no attention I lean back on my stool to try and get a better view. Jenny Brooke (future porn star) can't get any closer to Miley without bumping noses. I want to break up their conversation. I need to warn Miley that Jenny will have anyone, anywhere and her affection is not platonic.

"Why her?" I hiss scathingly, "Why fucking her you bimbo-"

"Cool it!" Oliver orders and waves a hand in front of my dilated pupils to distract me. "God Lilly! Miley isn't stupid, I'm sure she knows that Jenny Brooke is hitting on her. Heck, she's so desperate she'd want me! You don't need to PMS about it; you're not Miley's 'protector.'" He snorted and scribbled on the corner of his page, which besides the title was empty. We're meant to be doing a chemical experiment but I couldn't care less.

"Right," I stiffly say and grip my pen tightly. "I know."

Oliver rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, "And you call me a doughnut …"

I'm itching to get up and go over there. I have no right, I don't control Miley but I'm shivering with curses. There's a twinge of something more deep down in my heart but I only concentrate on getting Miley safely away. No way is Jenny manipulating her. Not being able to sit still any longer I bound over to where the perpetrator is and fold my arms as I come within sight of them both.

I can hear Oliver calling my name, I hear our teacher rushing over to some ignorant boy as they gain an acidic burn from messing around with the substances. Most of the class is grouped around the casualty so I have no boundaries.

To my surprise Miley doesn't look like she's entirely thrilled with having Jenny so close and that alone raises my heart. When she notices me she practically beams, something Jenny might have mistook to be directed at her but she turns around and sees me. That smile slides off her face immediately.

"Truscott," she breezily greets me and sits up from the desk slightly.

"Hi," I reply fakely. Addressing Miley I continue, "Miles, I need your help with my experiment. Can you come over here a second?" We all know Miley is the worst in the class at science but the sooner I drag her away from Jenny Brooke's sharp clutches the better.

"Err, sure." Miley makes to stand up but Jenny leaps up and blocks her way.

"I thought we could carry on our conversation, Miley. Why don't you help me with _my_ project?" she flutters her fake eyelashes and I feel the urge to rip them out.

"I can help bo-" Miley begins but I interrupt.

"Actually Jenny, I think I need her more than you do." I start to walk back to my seat, hoping Miley is in tow but a high pitched voice makes me cringe and I have to whip back around.

"Well, _Lilly_, you can have her after she's helped me." She laces her talon-like grip around Miley's arm and tugs.

How dare she touch her! She should never have that privilege, ever! Miley is looking a little perplexed and remains where she stands. At any other time I might have found her confused expression ad_orable_, but I was too busy trying to tell Jenny very kindly to leave my best friend alone. Being the ditzy bimbo she is my subtlety didn't go down too well.

Jenny glares daggers and I give her a death-glare right back.

I march over to Miley and point to where Oliver is gormlessly slouching. "We need you." I state bluntly.

"No, I need you!" Jenny snarls. No, she wants to get in Miley's pants! It's sick!

"What is your problem?" My voice rings out cold and shrill.

"What is _yours_?" Jenny throws her hands in the air and I take advantage of that to purposefully nudge past her and grab Miley by the arm to lead her to where she's meant to be.

"Lilly, what the-" Miley looks nonplussed.

Another presence towers behind me and I hear Oliver urging me to calm down. To _breathe_.

"What the fuck, Truscott!" Jenny yells and steps closer, her true colors flashing through. "Are you jealous or something?"

Something inside of me snaps at her demeaning tone. "Jealous!" I shout and Oliver and Miley both jump. "Why would _I_ be jealous?"

Jenny's mouth curls up into a satisfied smirk and Oliver pulls the back of my shirt to stop me lunging for her. Miley squeezes my arm, but I can't feel it.

"You want her!" Jenny deals her ace with arrogance, "You want her, Truscott! Don't even try to deny it; we all know it's true!" she sniggers and looks around for an audience.

"You fucking whore!" I charge at her so fast it's all a blur but before I can land any punches I'm being restrained by Oliver who has quick reflexes.

"Let me go" I demand and try to wiggle away. "What the hell, Oliver! Let me GO!"

He stubbornly refuses and Miley puts herself in the middle of me and Jenny, who looks furious and is bending down to remove her heels. Only because Miley is in the way do I stop my attack, I don't want her to get hurt. Our teacher finally notices what almost happened and the rest of the class chirp and cat-call at the fight that had nearly taken place.

Before he can reach us Miley grabs my arm and hauls me out into the corridor, the noise being cut off as the door closes. Without speaking she saunters down to the toilets and pushes me inside. Almost brutally.

My anger is ebbing away, I now feel ashamed and embarrassed. Why did I have to go over there? Why? Miley is entitled to interact with whomever she likes. She's going to think I'm crazy! … But what about Jenny? She said I was jealous! She said that I want Miley and everyone knows it. What the fuck was that supposed to mean. _Want_ her? I was protecting her from blood sucking bisexuals who play with innocent minds.

"What the hell just happened?" Miley explodes and folds her arms crossly. "Dang it, Lilly! You almost hit her!"

I scuff my sneaker on the tiles and look away pointedly. My heart sinks; she's disappointed in me and I don't blame her. "She deserved it."

"For what!"

"Because she's a bitch!" I answer as though it explains everything.

Miley looks unconvinced and bites her lip. "She's always been a bitch. Why try and hit her now?"

There's silence and it's painful. I can't explain what I did or why. Even I don't know why I was so intent on knocking out Jenny's teeth. Her piercing words ring in my head and I wonder if Miley is thinking about them too.

"Someone had to stand up to her," I finally shrug. "She walks over everyone and gets away with it."

Disheartened, Miley walks over to me and adds quietly, "She was only talking to me. Okay, she was trying to hit on me but I hate her. You're my best friend, Lilly." She reassures me, thinking that the reason Jenny called me jealous was because I was afraid to lose my best friend.

"I know," I smile. "I'm sorry for overreacting. She just pushes my buttons."

Miley chuckles dryly, "You don't say."

"Can we just forget about this?" I beg and straighten up self-consciously.

"Sure, but the rest of the school won't."

"They don't matter." I say honestly. "I have the two best friends in the world and the rest don't mean anything."

Miley nods and walks out of the door but before it closes I see her reflection in the mirror. Is it my imagination or did that sparkle just fade from her eyes before she left?

………………………………………………………………………

**A/N: Let me know what you think. **


	2. Prominent Signs

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Lillian Emily Truscott!" My dad storms into the office with my mom hurrying behind, her shoes squeaking on the floors as she cries: "What happened to my baby? I'm going to sue there ass!"

Mr. Bates, our school principal, looks slightly shocked as they both group around his desk and straightens his tie as he stands up. Not blaming him in the slightest for being intimidated, I shrink slowly down into my chair.

My dad is bulky and broad. He believes in rules and regulations. My mom is more like me. Individual and relaxed. Apprehensively, I scan her outfit; she must have come straight from the gym, whereas my dad always wears a suit so I can't tell if he came from work or from home.

"I received a phone call." My dad gets straight to the point, ignoring me completely. "About my daughter being involved in a fight-"

"It didn't happen." I interrupt and my mom motions for me to be quiet with her fingers pressing to her lips. Whose side are they on?

"Mr. Truscott, I assure you that the fight did not go ahead but if it hadn't had been for several students restraining Ms. Truscott I'm sure she would have done some serious damage to Ms. Brooke."

Preventing a snort, I pick at my fingernail. Jenny could hardly be described in a dignified manner.

"Nobody was hurt?" My dad presses forth, checking the clock on the wall. "There were no injuries to speak of?"

Mr. Bates shakes his head. "No, the fight was stopped before it could take place. However, its school rules that if a student is involved in an act of violence we contact the parents immediately. New policies have been brought in for this semester, and we uphold a reputation to follow them."

"What about this Brooke girl?" My mom demands sternly. "Why isn't she in here with Lilly?"

She looks at me and I shrug. Clearly I'm going to be the one being punished because of previous endeavors. Jenny, apart from being a leech, has nothing on her permanent record. How she acts is sneaky and deceitful, rather like a snake. On the other hand, before Miley came and brightened my life, I was heading down the wrong path, something which Mr. Bates is now glancing at as he skims through my file.

"Ms. Brooke has received a formal warning." Mr. Bates says and I resist the urge to scoff.

"A warning?" My mom's eyes narrow dangerously, "Why hasn't Lilly got a warning? Why have we had to come in?"

"Heather," My dad cuts across, "Lillian has done wrong and she needs to deal with the consequences-"

"I didn't hit her!" I state indignantly and squeeze my hands together to vent my anger.

"Go on, Lil. Tell us what happened." My mom gives me the benefit of the doubt and rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. Mr. Bates and my dad both look bored and uninterested in what I have to say.

Instead of trying to convince them I stand up, "I'm already late for class."

Snapping into action, Mr. Bates walks around to his office door and opens it for me. "Yes, that might be a good idea Ms. Truscott. You'll be let off with a formal warning but if it happens again I won't be so lenient. Have a nice day."

He's in a haste to get rid of me and my parents but as I walk out and the door closes I hear my dad begin talking again and my mom looking fidgety. Too bad that when she gets started she won't stop for anything

I sigh forlornly. I hate when my parents need to come up to school. When I get home I'm most likely going to be grounded, even though nothing actually happened. My mom will fight my battle but my dad seems keen on siding with the opinion of the man who claims I have done wrong. Where is the fairness in that?

Overhead the lights flicker; it's eerie and deserted. Further down the lockers gleam a metallic grey and my footsteps echo. Resisting the urge to kick one of the lockers, I take a turn and walk along a similar hallway, except this one is where my English class should be. Since I don't have a watch I have no idea how long is left until lunch. Vaguely, I wonder what Miley is thinking. Her opinion is above everyone else's. I only hope I haven't made it weird. Maybe we'll forget like she said we would and move past it. We don't need to focus on why I did it; I'll just say I was in a bad mood if she asks again.

"Lilly!" To my surprise I hear my name being called from behind and the sound of running reaches my ears.

Unexpectedly, Miley slows down and reaches me, brushing her hair back with what looks like a hall pass in her hand.

"I said I was going to the toilet." She explains and quickly holds up the note. "Anyway, what did Mr. Bates say? Are you in trouble?"

Ignoring the fact that we're standing close, I look back in the direction of the principal's office and inform her on what happened. As I explain Miley raises her eyebrows until I'm forced to ask "what?" in an amused tone. Again, her expression makes something different happen. On the inside my stomach tightens.

"You both got a warning?" Miley crinkles her nose and we begin a steady walk to class. "I guess that's better than detention."

"They called my parents." I scratch my nose awkwardly and rake a hand through my hair.

Miley's eyes widen. "Even your dad?"

"He acts like he doesn't want to know me." I say neutrally. "He always wants to see the worst in me."

Not knowing what to say Miley keeps silent but inches closer so her body is almost pressing against mine. I tremble.

"Are you okay?" she whispers and inclines her head.

Why did I just shiver? The hallway is cold but I feel warm. "I-I'm fine."

I can imagine her frowning but I don't look at her. For some reason I feel that meeting her eyes might make it worse. Whatever _it_ is.

I think she can sense this isn't the time to question me, she knows that if something's wrong I'll tell her, only … I'm sure there's something wrong now but I can't put it into words. It's more like a strange feeling. In some twisted way it leads to her, but I don't think why.

Finally, we reach our classroom but inside they're packing up. Mr. Ward is gathering essays and I feel my stomach drop. My essay is still unfinished on my desk. Miley must have noticed my sour expression for she lays a comforting hand on my arm. "I'll help you over the weekend." She promises loyally.

"You have Hannah things to do." My voice comes out hoarse and croaky. Swallowing is painful.

"It's a small sacrifice." She reassures me and again I see that unique sparkle light up her eyes. What does it mean? Why is it- It's gone. The bell rings and we break away.

"Let's go to lunch."

"Yeah …" Miley nods.

Subconsciously, I watch for boys looking at Miley. Some like Jake Ryan try to catch her eye but she steam rolls past them with her head held high. I'm so proud of her. But why does it please me? Before I could ponder it we reach the cafeteria.

"Urgh, what is that smell!" Miley exclaims and covers her nose with her sleeve.

"The smell of Jackson's closet." I follow suit ad we blindly walk to the trash can where Oliver is sitting.

"Did you get detention, Lil?" Oliver munches on his sandwich boyishly.

"No, just a warning."

"Jenny is really mad at you." He continues as I sit down next to him.

"Really." I say with no interest.

"I kind of heard her talking …" he trails off and looks at his tray. Instantly I'm curious. Why did she say?

"Well?" Miley persists and we exchange a glance.

"Okay," he gives in. "After Miley dragged you out of the classroom Jenny went over to her friend Samantha Mullins and they started talking. She's really angry at you for interrupting her conversation with Miley because she was trying to seduce her because …"

I move forward to grab the collar of his shirt but he carries on nervously. "Jenny thinks Miley is 'hot' and wants to get in her pants, basically. Although she didn't say it like that. In fact what she said was 'I bet Miley is so fucking irresistible during sex. Damn right, I'm going to make her scream' and that was when she was called to the principal's office."

"That fuc-"

"Language." Miley warns me and I breathe heavily. I wish I had ragged out her fake hair extensions while I had the chance.

"She's sick!" I curse and slam my fist to the table. "How can she talk about Miley in such a provocative way? Nothing more than a dirty slut who sleeps around-" Oliver recedes into his chair and Miley flinches.

The mere thought of her sends me into turmoil. I _loathe_ her. Everything about Miley is sweet and pure; to hear about her being talked about in such a disgusting way aggravates the devil in me. Normally I wouldn't react so strongly to anything. Usually I would turn the other cheek and not lower myself to their level but today in that science room the urge to protect Miley through whatever jealously or foreign feelings I was experiencing, makes my heart weigh down heavily with an unknown burden.

"Can we just forget about it?" Miley looks a little shaken. "I want nothing to do with Jenny."

"Yeah, sorry." I apologize and stand up to give her a hug. She smells faintly of a fruity scent and I lean in closer. "You smell nice." I murmur happily. This relaxes me, I'm mellow again. The stress and fury leaves me as we embrace.

She laughs pleasantly, "Thank-you."

Looking visibly relieved, Oliver takes a bite of his spaghetti and flecks of hot sauce stain his shirt. "Shit!" he yelps and rubs it desperately with a napkin.

"Language!" Miley jokingly scolds him as she lets go of my waist.

I don't want to let her go, I feel safe and soothed in arms. However, I step back and find my chair again. As she walks up to the lunch queue I watch her. The way she walks is really something. It oozes shyness yet radiates confidence.

"What are you looking at Miley for?"

Oliver's voice breaks my momentary stupor. "What?" I ask dumbly.

"You were staring at her."

"So? It doesn't mean anything. God, I can't even _look_ at her now!" I melodramatically drum my fingers on the table. This room is enclosed, my cheeks are burning.

"Chillax Lilly!"

"Sorry." I mutter lowly. "I just feel so-so-"

"I know." Oliver helps me out. "You've had a rough day. I'll back off with the stupid comments."

"That would be nice."

He winks good-naturedly and returns to his messy school meal.

Today is a bad day. Things that were unhidden have suddenly broke free and stirred up my orderly function. I'm short-fused, snappy and confused. Everything annoys me. I wish I was back home under the covers where life can't reach me.

"Lillian." Elaine, the school psychiatrist, rubs her glasses on her black skirt and gestures for me to take a seat on the opposite couch. I oblige and fiddle with the zips on the pockets of my combat pants.

"You look troubled, Lillian. You haven't been to see me in months, perhaps years." The way she observes me is slightly frightening.

The Japanese always said the eyes were the windows to a person's soul and I feel like she's invading mine.

Elaine checks her files with pursed lips. "Our last meeting was a couple of days before Destiny Stewart arrived at the school." She places the thick black folder on the wicker coffee table and clasps her hands together. An ugly ring perches upon her index finger.

Hearing someone refer to Miley by her birth name throws me off. No one calls her that, I doubt anybody ever did. However, her real name appeals to me. _Destiny_. It's almost like a sign, a code. On the other hand, Miley is perfect for her. That's her name and I'm glad.

"I hear you two are friends." Elaine says conversationally.

"Practically sisters," I correct.

"I also hear you two have been quite inseparable."

Where is she taking this? Why are we talking about Miley? Just because I think _my_ problems revolve around her doesn't mean _other_ people need to pick up on that. The point of a shrink is to help you overcome something, not dwell upon something you don't want to talk about. God, why am I even here?

"Can we not talk about Miley?' I say stiffly and take a sip of water.

Elaine leans forward. "Why not?" she asks softly.

"Because I don't want to." I turn away and dislodge her efforts. "I think about her enough, I don't need to keep talking about her, especially to you."

On the contrary, Elaine gives a Cheshire cat smile. "I heard you almost fought with Ms. Brooke today, Lillian. Your parents have just left."

"Yeah."

"Would you care to go into detail?"

"She's a bitch and I hate her." I say simply. "She was allover Mil-" I stop self-consciously.

"Ah, this _is_ about Ms. Stewart?" Elaine lifts up her mug smugly. "Lillian, you say you don't want to talk about her but it seems that you're upset."

I leap to her defense. "Miley's done nothing wrong!"

"I never said she did. I think that you're upset over something concerning Ms. Stewart. Don't keep it bottled up." She encourages. "Anything you do say is confidential, you know that. We worked past the issues with your sister and now we can work past what you're so defeated about now. Let me in, Lillian. I can help." Her hypnotic voice lulls me into a sense of security, which was her intention.

Grumbling under my breath I begin, "I can't explain it."

"What can't you explain?"

Hesitatingly, I admit, "These feelings."

"Feelings?"

"About Miley … I think. Okay, I think whatever I'm feeling is about Miley but I don't know what it is!" I end exasperated.

"How does she make you feel?"

"Like I can't breathe. Erm, like she distracts me. I don't know! I told you I can't explain! She just makes me feel different!" I stream off hotly.

The pastille colors of the room are false. The happy vibe is ridiculous. I shouldn't even be here. Therapy doesn't need me. I thought that getting some of it off my chest might help but its not. It's making it worse. Psychiatrists don't understand. Not at all.

"She said I was jealous!" I burst out and sat up rigidly. "Why would I be jealous? I was trying to save Miley from her! She was just saying that to get to me …"

"Did Ms. Brooke say something that got to you, Lillian?"

"It's Lilly," I hiss, "And yes, she did. She said that I was jealous and that I want Miley."

Wiping the fluff off her jacket, Elaine resumes, "Want?"

"I don't know what that means." I rub my temples and double over. "It's just hormones, I'm growing up. Things are different and my emotions can't keep up."

"Being a teenager is an awkward phase. You're in the process of discovering who you are and what you want. Don't feel like an outsider, Lilly. You may think you are the only one going through this but that's not true. Maybe Ms. Stewart is just as confused as you are right now."

"That's impossible."

"Why is it?"

"It just is." I stubbornly finish. "I don't know what goes on in Miley's head. I don't even know what goes on in my own!"

"Do all of your problems involve Ms. Stewart?" Elaine wonders and makes a note on her paper. "Are these different feelings you say you are experiencing towards her or around her or even about her?"

Glumly, I nod.

"I see." Elaine puts the paper down. "I think that you need to figure this out for yourself, Lilly. It's the only way you will accept it."

What a waste of time. "You don't know what's wrong with me."

"I do. But you don't. Not yet. This is yours to adapt to at your own pace."

Demandingly, I stand up. "Tell me what's wrong with me."

Elaine walks over to the door and opens it. "Come visit me on Monday, Lilly. Maybe you'll understand better then. My door is always open for you when you need to talk through your problems."

"I want to talk now!"

"Lilly, please come back on Monday. You'll feel better after some sleep."

"Whatever." I storm out and slam the door. Tension is high and suffocating. What did I achieve by going in there? To be told that I'm normal and to sleep on it. Bullshit! She does not know my problems, she does not know me! As for knowing what is wrong with me- Ha!

While I'm blowing off steam my cell phone rings and I fumble in my pocket until I manage to grip a hold of it. It's after school and I'm alone.

"Lilly?" It's Miley.

"Do you want to sleep over tonight? I can help you finish your essay."

Seeing the silver lining I answer her gratefully. Being with Miley might make it all become clear. _Destiny_ needs to give me a shove in the right direction.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed on my first chapter, it was really encouraging. Hopefully, this was just as good and please don't hesitate to comment. I love hearing from you all. **


	3. Gradual Acceptance

**Thank-you so much to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters. Your kind and encouraging words are really touching :)**

………………………………………………………………………………………

"Are you okay, hon?" To be honest I'm sick of everyone speaking to me like I'm on my deathbed. The world is not ending. To me it feels like it but time does not freeze for a single person's misfortune.

"Would you like to tell me why you nearly punched that girl today?" Exhaustion overwhelms me and I decline. My mom means well but I'm in no mood to relive science, much less go into detail. Thinking of that bitch makes my blood boil.

"I'm sleeping over at Miley's." My voice sounds small and insignificant. Weak and forlorn. "I think I need some space."

Worriedly, my mom looks pleadingly at my dad who is sat at the kitchen table with a letter in front of him. _Work_. That's all he thinks about. Why doesn't he just live at his office and do us all a favor.

He looks up grudgingly when he senses he's needed. "Lillian, you're going to stay in tonight."

"Roger!" My mom chastises him and closes the cupboard door briskly, "I think Lilly is right. She needs some space. When she's ready to talk she'll come to us. She just needs to be around her friends for the time being, and Miley is just what she needs to work through whatever problems she's having. We're her parents, not her peers."

Oh, if only you knew mom.

"Lillian needs to be punished!" My dad remains harsh and hurtful, not bothering to look up. "She needs to learn what's acceptable and what's unacceptable."

Growing tired and weary I face him bravely. Patience is thinning. I'm not some disobedient child he can scold. "Dad, I didn't hit her for the last time!"

"Your behavior is becoming outrageous. Ever since Miley came to this school you've-"

"She's made me a better person!" I flare up furiously. Never will he blame my best friend for anything! "Who knows where I'd be if it wasn't for her. Dad, she saved me!"

"Lillian, I don't want to talk about this anymore. You're obviously unwilling to listen to another opinion except your own and I can't talk to you when you are like this." My dad dismisses coolly.

Grinding my teeth together, I storm from the room and grab my overnight bag from the stairs. Hopefully my mom will cover for me because there is no way I'm being in his presence any longer. Who the fuck does he think he is? I'm not owned by anyone; much less him and he can't keep ordering me around when I'm not his little girl anymore. My family is so fucking dysfunctional.

I see Matt walking up the path with his work shirt on and I march passed him, fuming.

"Where's the fire?" he yells after me.

"On a stick and shoved up dad's ass! I hate him!" I insult forcefully kicking a stone so it bounces along the sidewalk.

Sympathetically, Matt drags a hand through his unruly blond hair. "What did he do now?"

"Blame Miley for me being a better person!"

"That sucks … where are you going? Lilly!"

"To Miley's!" I shout over my shoulder. "He can't control me!"

"But Lilly!"

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" And with that said I leave under the setting sun.

Before Miley came and changed my life I was nothing but an unsociable youth, secluded in my own misery. Students feared me, teachers hated me, and my own dad detested everything about me. When _Destiny_ came, however, she made me feel wanted, needed. Now nobody can remember the shattered remnants of a broken girl. She made me feel … _different_.

Frustrated at the lack of answers, I start to jog. The wind in my face is refreshing, the shadows are redeeming. Running away is so easy. Forgetting why you are is not. Being with Miley makes me happy; therefore it's logical to be with her at my time of need. Maybe she can help me figure out this part of me that's missing? Elaine says I'm unwilling to accept it. How can I when I don't know what _it_ is?

Opening the door, I step casually inside. The smell of tacos makes me smile. Miley's dad is wearing a pink apron and is whistling as he cooks; Jackson is watching TV and barely acknowledges me. That alone makes me smile. I'm a regular, I'm expected.

"Hey Lilly!" Mr. Stewart greets me enthusiastically and adds a spice to the sizzling meat. "Come over darlin' and try this beef!"

Stifling a giggle, I oblige and bound over to where he's holding the spoon with a goofy smile. He's more of a father figure than my biological dad. When I come over he seems genuinely happy to be in my presence. The karma here is so positive and refined. I find myself being engulfed.

"Mr. S!" I applaud and savor my bite. "That's amazing!"

"Shucks." He pretends to look bashful. "You're too nice to me, Lilly. Tell Miley to compliment my food like you do and I'll buy her that car she so badly wants." He shakes the frying pan and I watch. "Actually, you're my chef in the making so don't tell Miley. She'll be jealous." He lowers his voice to a whisper and I give him the A-okay sign with my thumb and forefinger.

Being here makes me feel needed. Mr. Stewart cares. Jackson cares with the way he has just informed me that Miley is upstairs. But most importantly _Miley_ cares.

"Miles?" I gently tap on her door and walk inside.

"Hey." She's sat on the floor with her guitar, leaning against her bed with a plectrum in her hand. "Come sit." She pats the carpet next to her and I dump my bag near her closet and crouch down. "I've been trying to write a song." She sighs and strums the strings.

"How is that working out for you?"

Miley winces. "Terrible. I thought after today and what happened I could find some lyrics but …"

I sit down fully beside her and run my fingers along her rug. "You're so creative."

"Not today." She sounds glum (defeated) and I look at her cautiously.

"Play me something." I shuffle to kneel into a better position. "Anything." I want to hear her therapeutic voice. Like a lullaby. I want to sway like a palm tree on a desert island, close my eyes and imagine the picturesque view. "Please, Miles. Play something." I plead as she looks reluctant.

"Okay." She can't say no to my pout. "I wrote this last week and it's … unfinished."

Honestly, I don't care. I need her to sing to me. The urge to hear her voice, so raw and powerful, takes priority. Please take my troubles away, Miley. Make me numb. Don't make me feel my own fears but experience another's with your talented words.

Slowly, she shifts her hands and checks the strings. Eagerly, I await her magic.

_You leave me breathless _

_You're everything good in my life _

_You leave me breathless _

_Why won't you ever be mine? _

_You just walked out of one of my dreams _

_So beautiful you're leaving me … _

_Breathless _

A melancholy song emerges from her lips and I feel heartache. The intensity of her lyrics astounds and entices me so I'm swirling in a vortex full of her melody. This is unexpected. What flows from her mouth is … _different_. Hannah has never sung something like this before. This has meaning. She's wrote it from the soul and it shows...

Suddenly, my heart freezes. Who is it about? Who leaves Miley breathless? Who is so beautiful that they haunt her dreams? Envious, I block out the green-eyed monster sniffing the air. I'm so messed up... why am I jealous about Miley having a potential love interest? I'm so fucking insane.

Critically, Miley leans back and bites her lip. "It's not very good."

"No! That was … so beautiful." I croak out with a splutter and she blushes a beautiful shade. "It really touched me, Miles."

"I'm glad." She whispers and we look at each other for a few seconds. Gently, I let my hand rest on her leg and she looks down and patently smiles.

"Thanks." I whisper and move away because I had an unexplainable desire to look at her lips and snake an arm around her neck to pull her in closer and hold her against me.

She recoils in the same way I do only her cheeks turn crimson. "You're welcome."

Did we just have a moment? Why did I feel like I wanted to- to _kiss_ her? That isn't normal. I panic. Distancing myself I walk over to her desk and sit on her chair, heart racing. Nothing happened, nothing happened …

"Um," Miley sounds awkward as she stands up. "I know I said I would help you on your essay but Tracy invited me to a party she's throwing. Do you want to come?"

Nothing happened; nothing happened … "Sure," I blindly agree while I fiddle with her magazine absent-mindedly.

Miley puts her guitar back on its stand and shoves her hands in her pockets. "Are you really sure? We don't have to go if you don't want to."

"Huh?"

Blankly, Miley persists, "The party?"

Inwardly slapping myself I reassure her that I do want to go to Tracy's party. That we will have fun and be away from the looming stress of examinations and essays.

Oh God, what just almost happened? I've never been intimate with someone in that way before and the way she was sitting so close … It was just a momentary lapse.

"Shall we go find something to wear?" Miley asks shyly and opens her closet. "I have some Lola outfits and wigs over here."

"Great."

"Lilly?" Miley looks at me with sadness in her eyes and I feel immediate guilt. "Are you really okay?"

"Yes! Now can we just go to this party?"

She surveys me and quickly nods, leaving me alone in her room as she enters the closet. Tears prick my eyes and I sink down on her bed with my head in my hands. What is wrong with me? I feel so messed up. Confusion! That's all I ever seem to feel! Just- just make it go away … I want to feel normal, I just want to be normal …

"Hannah!" Tracy runs over and delivers air kisses as we walk through the door. "I have to ask, how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen." Miley replies and readjusts her necklaces. "And so is Lola." She involves me but I don't want any attention, especially from her 'celebrity' acquaintances.

"Ah, yes." Tracy observes me unkindly. "Anyway, there's no paparazzi but there is free alcoholic drinks being served near the back to go careful." She winks and hurries over to the latest guests arriving.

Nasally voices annoy me. I watch her go with distaste until Miley gently links our arms and guides me into the apartment. Goosebumps erupt along my arm as she does so but I shake it off. Never think about it. Never ask. I will remain safe and empty for the rest of my pathetic life.

Colours bounce off every surface; it's not as crowded as I expected. Lava lamps glimmer on every table, adults with drinks in their hands pace around the room with an air of importance. The dance floor is full; the music is making me vibrate.

Hannah will need to make an acquaintance with most of these veterans and I prepare myself for boredom. Once upon a time I might have been thrilled to see these famous faces but I'm in no mood tonight.

Miley's song was beautiful when she was playing it, but after, when I had time to analyse her lyrics, made gloom settle on me like a sheet of dust.

"Shall we go mingle?" Miley asks unsurely and glances around. "They all seem so busy."

Why am I being like this with her? Miley has done nothing wrong. These are my problems, my issues, and she should not be dragged down with me. I warned her from the very beginning I was bad news but she has a stubborn nature. Through her perseverance I excelled.

"Do you want to dance instead?"

"Dance?" I repeat with trepidation. "Over there?" I point to the dance floor where the entire population looks tipsy and are grinding bodies.

She takes my anxiety for sarcasm and turns away. "It doesn't matter."

"No, Miles, I-" she's looking at me again and I can't function. My train of thought is gone. "Um, I, err …"

"Have I got you tongue-tied?" She laughs and the ice is broken. "C'mon. Let's go find a corner." She pulls me over to a secluded area of squashy bright chairs and couches.

"These are really comfy!" she shuffles around on one and I can't suppress a grin. _Cute_. She looks really cute when she does stuff like that.

"What?" she notices the look on my face and I just shake my head secretly.

"Nothing." Because it is nothing. That's all it is: nothing.

She plays with her bracelet and I smooth out my skirt. Why is this silence awkward?

"I thought it might be fun to get away for a couple of hours but …" Miley trails off regretfully and sinks back into the leather.

"I know." I comfort genially. "It was a thoughtful idea."

"Are you having fun?" she frowns. "I've only been here for two minutes and I know I'm not."

"You could make it fun," I lamely suggest. "Go and get a drink or something."

Miley looks heartened. "You're right! I'll be right back."

As Hannah she's different. Confidence is her skill. As Miley she is much more conservative. For instance the clothes she wears now are designed for gaining attention. It just bothers me when I see boys watching her as she walks. Jealously flares up inside of me.

Calm down, Lilly. She's your best friend, always and only your best friend. Don't stare at her curves. Don't!

"This tastes different." Miley remarks as she collapses back on the couch and giggles. "Here, I got you one." She thrusts the drink into my hand and I sniff it precariously.

"How many of these have you had?" I eye her warily.

"A couple." She shrugs and lays back. "They taste nice."

"So does fruit punch." I take her drink from her tight clutches and pass it to a nearby waiter, along with my own. Trust naïve Miley to go get a drink from the wrong bar. Tracy is not only a ditzy waste of space but a complete lunatic too. Hannah Montana is sixteen and that idiot is encouraging her to indulge on liquor! What is our world coming to?

"Hannah Montana?" We simultaneously look up and see a boy with fair hair and blue eyes grinning sheepishly. "I'm a big fan of yours ..." he clears his throat nervously. "Would you care to dance with me?"

"No!" I answer before I can stop myself. What the fuck did I just say that for? Reflex.

Miley blurrily snaps her attention to me. "Say what?"

"Sorry, she needs some fresh air." I stand up roughly and haul Miley along with me to the balcony outside.

"Ouch! Lilly!"

Breathing heavily, I let my hands grip the railing tightly. "You've had some alcohol and you need air. Your dad would kill you if he found out."

Startled, Miley thinks back to the drink she just had and her eyes widen, "Oh."

Stars litter the night sky like diamonds. Peace and harmony flows down from the protective moon in swirling patterns. Traffic noises seem to be in a whole other dimension. When it's me and Miley it's _only_ me and Miley. Anything else is invisible.

"Shall we just go?" Miley hiccups and claps a hand over her mouth. "Coming here was a bad idea."

I can't say I disagree. "Yeah, let's go."

Under the moonlight she looks so pretty and angelic. My thoughts flicker to my photograph on my bedside table and I wish I was back in that moment, back when we were all young and carefree with no problems. How quickly that all changed.

"Did you like that guy who asked you to dance?" I torture myself by wondering and she stands beside me and sighs.

"No, I didn't."

"Miley …" I have to finish what I'm about to say for the sake of my sanity. "Who was that song about that you played for me earlier? It was so sad and beautiful."

"I'm not ready to talk about it." She surprises me by saying.

She is keeping a secret... "Why?"

"Because it's really personal and I'm really … unsure about it all."

"Personal! Miley, I'm your best friend! You can tell me anything!"

"Just like you can tell me anything!" The way she says that makes me freeze. She makes it sound like I'm keeping a secret of my own, that I'm hiding something.

"I'm sorry." I apologize meekly. "For taking it all out on you. It's been a stressful day and my emotions are everywhere. Take your time in whatever it is … um; I understand why you need time."

The truth is I think I need to come to terms with something and accepting a change in yourself is incredibly hard.

"I'm going to call Jackson and make him pick us up." Miley flips out her cell phone and strolls away to get a little privacy. I watch her and I realize that she isn't just pretty. She's beautiful. Inside and out.

Where is that bar? If anyone needs to forget their troubles it's me right now. Miley is... attractive? Since she's my best friend I've never looked at her in a different light, I never had ho reason to. I've never been exposed to anything other than traditional fairytales. The handsome man and the gorgeous woman marry in a kingdom and have children of their own who eventually do the same. Where in these fairytales is the misunderstood girl who suddenly finds herself falling for her female best friend? Where is _that_ happy ending?

"He's coming now." Miley smiles in a relieved fashion and hugs her arms around her body to conserve body heat.

The wind is chilly and piercing. My feelings are tugging and breaking free of these chains.

I move over to keep her warm, my arms wrapping around her which she instantly reciprocates and holds me close, both hearts beating in unison.

"You're warm." She moans appreciably into my neck and I shake and shudder as her breath grazes my skin. Hmm, this feels so nice and right. Miley is the best person to cuddle with, she really gets full body contact

Both of my arms are now interlocking around her back while she has both arms crushed against my chest with her face buried in my neck, her entire body tilted into me as I lean against the railing.

This is how we need to stand. United under the moonlight. Just us because we need no other being to make it complete. We're a circle.

"Lilly? Don't ever leave me, okay? Even when we leave school."

"I promise." I rub her back and a lump appears in my throat.

An inkling of acceptance runs through my body and my initial thought is to run far, far away but another part of me willingly embraces it.

That brave part of me strokes the back of Miley's hair as the world around us leaves us in our defined moment.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

**Sorry for the wait. Please let me know what you think and any suggestions are welcomed and noted. **

**The chorus of the song is property of Shane Ward only I manipulated one of the lines. I accidentally heard it and thought it might be good to use in this chapter. **


	4. Breathing

………………………………………………………………………………………..

The mirror reflects everything I am. I peer closely and all that is staring back is bewildered blue eyes and an incredulous frown.

Breathe, breathe …

Outside Miley is probably speculating what I'm doing in her bathroom for so long only I grit my teeth and squeeze the edge of the sink with trembling hands. My stomach lurches; I want to throw up. Misty condensation infiltrates the mirror and my reflection is fogged over, unidentifiable.

I can't help but think the inability to see myself is symbolizing something. Elaine would be having a field day if she arranged a meeting right now, my problems would be off her stupid little radar and transcend into the mentally unstable.

Breathe, breathe …

After we left the party in Jackson's car my mind whirred like cogs in a machine. Letting go of Miley as we held each other under the milky twilight was so hard, so complicated. All I knew at that moment was that I detested not having her body pushed up against mine. It was so safe, reassuring and comfortable. Then she gently released her tight grip and we fell apart like breaking pieces of a puzzle. The noises came back, our moment was ruined and we left with more confusion than when we arrived.

She's been awfully quiet since we got back, frightening silent. What is she thinking? Does she know what is happening to me? This transformation into a – a different person. I like her, I really like her and it scares me so much I want to puke.

When? How? What? Why?

Details are fuzzy, facts are scarce. I'm vulnerable. This wasn't supposed to happen. Miley is my safety net, the person who catches me when I fall. I'm falling now but where is she? I'm falling so hard and fast. Abrupt speed, increased acceleration. Oh God I've fallen for her and my life is flashing before my eyes.

I'm not normal! My dad always said I was unusual, strange, but I never understood what that meant. Does liking another girl make me weird? A freak? Besides the ultimate fear of it being Miley I'm surprisingly calm about the concept of it being of the same gender. Miley's femininity appeals to me. Well I might as well admit it. The alternative is rejection. How can I refuse who I am?

"Lilly?"

Shit! The glass cup on the side almost crashes to the floor as I violently jump but I manage to grab it before it shatters and hold it steady until it regains stability. "Is everything okay?"

No it fucking isn't okay Miley Stewart! I've fallen for you and it's all your fault! Why do you have to be so perfect and flawless? Why, why, why-

"Lilly!"

No tears, no tears. What do they solve? "I'm coming," I whimper and I hear her walking away from the closed door. When I go out and see her what will happen? Will I crack and crumble or put on a brave façade? Rhetorical questions are bullshit for they either only have one answer or have none at all. Sometimes I wish I could turn myself off.

Earlier tonight Miley asked me to never leave her and I promised I wouldn't. Now I fear the tables will turn and she'll leave me all alone to marry some undeserving boy while I wander a restless soul across this labyrinth. Help me!

Breathe, breathe …

After rapid debates I force myself to open the door and leave my safe haven to step across the threshold to an eventual downfall. My princess, my forbidden desire is sat down on the edge of her bed wearing a light pink camisole and baggy pajama bottoms, biting her lip and twiddling her thumbs anxiously.

It hurts to look at her. The sting shoots up and down my body and my legs waver. This new light that befalls her leaves me in awe. This is what religious people believe. This is what they would call a numerous experience where the possibility of something greater in the universe intoxicates their thoughts. Oh Miley, what you've always done to me... I've been blind, so blind …

When a blind man regains his sight some people call it a miracle. My eyes are open and I'm midway at naming it a curse for it shall break me.

"Do you want to watch a movie before we go to sleep?" Miley makes little movement as she walks over to her TV and studies her DVD collection. She's so smooth and graceful. "You can pick whatever you want."

"Y-you pick," I stutter foolishly and clench my fists behind my back.

"I'm trying to be nice," Miley attempts calmly. "You pick."

I march over to her and grab a DVD brutally and thrust it into her limp hand.

As she gives me a strange look and unclips the case I cradle my face and rub my eyes in frustration. I'd withstand my dad's presence if it got me out of this claustrophobic room. I can't fucking breathe!

Miley is killing me and she does not know it. If she did would she abandon me?

"C'mon, let's get comfy." She urges and pulls back the quilt on her bed so she can clamber inside and get warm. Hesitantly, I do the same but keep a safe distance away. Danger signs erupt before my eyes. She's wearing a tight top and baggy pants. She has a figure that threatens to increase my heart rate and a smile to entice me with. I'm whipped.

"I'm sorry the party was so rubbish. That's not been my brightest idea in the world, especially when Tracy is the one hosting it. Daddy warned me to stay in and help you with your essay but I'm too dang stubborn." She snuggles deeper and I gulp and look away. Her raspy southern accent gives me tingles and I unwillingly let them run havoc.

"I had fun," I reply simply, shivering at the effect she had on me when I saw her sheer beauty under the stars for the first time. Was this what Elaine was referring to? I'm accepting it, okay. I'm fucking embracing the fact I love Miley in a more than a platonic way so she can stop acting omnipotent. Shrinks think they know everything!

"Thanks for lying," Miley smiles and glues her eyes on the opening credits. "Usually you'd tell me the truth and say you hated it."

I chuckle nervously. "Tonight was …" I pause, trying to find the right word or phrase to describe my discoveries. "Educational." I settle for fervently. "It made me realize something …"

"Me too." She replies softly and my heart leaps with painful hope.

Pushing my luck I continue, "And what was that?"

"I can't tell you." Miley hugs Beary and it makes me subconsciously wish it was me she had her arms wrapped around. "Will you tell me what your secret is?"

"Who said-" she looks at me knowingly and I stop. "Okay, I get your point."

"I'll tell you someday. When I'm ready." Miley says.

"Ditto." I mutter and lay down a little closer beside her.

Two secrets. Two problems. Two hearts. Two dreams. Two minds. Too much …

"What are we watching?" I break the silence unsurely and she giggles. _Cute_. I'm beginning to really hate that word!

"You picked it!"

I cringe sheepishly. "Oh yeah …"

"Lilly?" she sounds questioning and my heart picks up pace again automatically. This is such a rollercoaster. She knows, she knows. What do I do? What do I say! Deny? Reveal!

"Have you – do you – what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Erm, anything," I shrug unhelpfully, knowing she wasn't about to ask me that and quickly I rub my sweaty palms on my own pajama pants under the concealing covers.

Miley pays close attention to the screen. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."

Coincidental word choice. Yes, we'll cross every bridge when we come to it. We will not remain planted to the ground at one side with a phobia of visiting the unknown realms or pause halfway across with furtive glances at safe ground. We will stand tall and together enter unfamiliar territory and explore what is on the other side. For over there will be a happier place, I just know it.

The TV screen flashes bright and lights up the dark room but I do not watch it. Just beside me is everything I hate and love. Miley shuffles closer and I sharply inhale.

"Sorry," she apologizes meekly. "I thought you were cold and I was going to-"

She makes me hotter than I could ever become. But I'm ice cold at the same time.

"Keep me warm," I shyly plead and give myself to her. Toss me, dangle me but do not throw me away for I am an unrelenting boomerang. A persistent, nagging little inaccuracy in the back of your mind that will not disappear. Please love me …

An alienated smile graces her delicate features and her eyes, so much they remind me of the ocean, sparkle with a mysterious ardor.

She moves closer to me and I tersely snuggle into her, gasping her scent, succumbing into the fumes that are so naturally her … My arms instinctively snake around her, reenacting our previous endeavor only a couple of hours ago and I mimic our stance only we are laid down now.

Her hair cascades down her back and around her face like a dainty waterfall, her breath smells of her mint toothpaste, her body is an intricate wonder and I am blessed to be touching it, worshiping it. In return she is stroking my hair and my eyes flutter close in bliss. Ah, this is heaven. Talented fingers stroke my waves, tangle in the velvety ends, nurturing my locks like no other has done before. I love her, I love her so much. It's insane. I'm sixteen and I'm in love but I've fallen so deep, into an abyss and the funny thing is I don't want to get back up. Being in love with Miley seems _destined._

We're almost adjoining intimately and Goosebumps explode all over my body. The movie is playing but we're not watching it. Miley is staring at my face with a neutral expression and I'm quivering under her telescopic gaze. Admiring her slim waist, I let my hands uncurl fully so I'm properly holding her and she almost makes a squeaking sound.

Secrets, secrets … Do not speak for we shall be heard and judged.

"You're beautiful, Lilly." Miley murmurs almost as though voicing her thoughts aloud and I feel like crying. For me that would be unethical so I don't do anything. You're beautiful, too, Miley! I want to scream it at her so she knows. She must know that she's ridiculously gorgeous. Right … What boy does not want her?

Lying here in the dark with Miley is where I always need to be. School, people, the world doesn't matter. It sort of just fades into nothingness…

Then her eyes start to close as we lay there in peaceful silence. Her fingers maintain that soothing rhythm and as she slips into unconsciousness she huddles closer. Without breaking contact I reach over and grab the remote to turn off the TV. Was it really necessary put it on? Miley looks like an angel while she sleeps. Nothing but harmony etches across her exquisite features. Her fingers fall weakly onto my hair and I know she's dreaming.

To take advantage of her is impertinence; I would never invade her privacy for my own sickening desires. Instead I settle for tucking one hand under the pillow, keeping the other on her waist, and I watch her snooze with admiration and unrestricted attraction.

Yes, yes she is perfect, so perfect … Be mine, Miley. We'll be okay, we'll be safe … I'll protect you always …

"Mom?" I lean back on the dining room chair casually. "Can I talk to you?"

She strokes the fluffy head of her Chihuahua dog and turns to face me attentively. "Anything honey, you know that." She strides over to the seat beside me and settles herself down with her attention focused on me and only me.

Waiting. We're both waiting …

"How did you know that dad was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?" I jump straight in and look at my nails with feigned interest, a little embarrassed. I was warming up; this was the preliminary question before the big bang.

"Because he was there for me when no one else was," My mom absent mindedly pets Holly and goes into reminiscent mode. "We had a sudden connection. I just knew right from the beginning that he was the one."

That's what they all say. How did they _know_? Imagining anyone being attracted to dad with the way he is quite impossible.

My mom studies me complacently. "Have you found your one?" she inquires with paramount interest.

"I-I-" I fall silent and can't go on. Is Miley _my_ one? Tactfully, I eschew the subject by shuffling my sneakers under the table and fingering the place mat idly

"Lilly?" My mom puts her hand over mine. "You can tell me anything."

"I'm confused," I whisper truthfully. "Mom, I think I have found my one …"

"And?" she encourages with a smile.

"It's not exactly normal." I flip out. "It's weird really. I've fallen for the person I'd least expect to but in a way it's not weird at all. Urgh, it's so hard to explain!"

"Who is it?" My mom implores. "Don't feel like you're all alone, Lilly. I want to help with whatever you're going through."

"Mom?" I need to know. "Promise me I'm normal."

She laughs, "What is normal, Lilly? Who is to say what's normal. We can't label things to suit ourselves, the world is unpredictable. One person's normalcy might be another's nightmare."

"When did you get so deep?" I mutter and she laughs heartedly, depositing Holly on the ground so she can get closer.

"You get your spiritual side from me." She says with her eyes twinkling fondly.

"What side did I get from dad? The God-awful mood swings."

"Lilly," she warns good-naturedly. "He loves you; he just wants the best for you."

"And where is he! If he cared that much he'd be home right now wanting to make amends!"

My mom watches me sympathetically and I look away pointedly from her pitiful expression. "Anyway …" I move it along, this is not what I came home to talk about.

She sits up straighter and whips her blonde hair from her face as I dig around my mind for the right words to say.

"Okay," I begin with taking a deep breathe. Now or never. Sooner rather than later. "I like Miley." I squeeze my eyes shut against her reaction, a blush creeping to my pale cheeks. To my surprise the next thing I feel is a warm embrace and then smell my mom's strong perfume as she hugs me tightly and jerks me around like I'm still that five year old child.

"Lilly! I love you no matter what and if Miley is your one then go get her!"

Urgh, why did she have to go all movie-script on me …?

She pulls back beaming with tears lining her eyes. "I know, I know, it's not that easy but believe me Lilly it's not weird, it's beautiful. A love between two people should be praised and accepted. Don't let anyone tell you different."

To be congratulated by my own mom hits me deep in the heart and relief sails through me, some of the weight vanishing from my laden shoulders. To have her there and supporting to me means more to me than I originally thought. Having adult permission somehow makes it all the more believable. Yes, I love Miley. Yes, she's my best friend. No, I don't know if I should say anything. No, I don't know what it makes me.

As my mom dabs at her eyes with a napkin (forever a drama queen) I turn seriously and gulp, "Mom, what does this make me?" apprehensively.

"Whatever you want it to make you. Don't fall under a category, Lil."

Category, category … I'm not – I don't think- maybe I am …

I've fallen for the only girl I could ever envision myself liking.

And I need to tell her.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

**Again, thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I understand not a lot happened in this chapter but Lilly has finally got her head clear and the talk with her mom I felt was relevant due to her mom's personality. **

**Please let me know what you thought! If anyone wants to give me any story ideas for this fanfic please feel more than free to do so. **


	5. Innocence is Brilliance

…………………………………………………………..

Fourteen days has passed since I discovered I was undeniably in love with my best friend.

My essay has been handed in and graded and thanks to Miley's incessant tutoring I scraped a pass, her own grades are improving and her dad is still on the edge of deciding whether to let her get a car, and together we're surviving High School by remaining inconspicuous. Just like everyone else.

Jenny Brooke is still crawling all over her like a contagious disease, and whenever I see her stalk Miley with that mini-skirt and revealing top that accentuates her chest I feel so furious and jealous I snap at everyone, including her, which always leads to several corridor arguments, where I get dragged along by Miley and sometimes Oliver if he's around.

Not much else has changed since that pitiful night. My confusion has lessened, my thoughts have become unclouded yet I'm so unhappy. To smile is a task; to regain lost enthusiasm into my dull eyes is arduous.

They all want to know what's wrong, all of those wandering eyes feeding off another persons shattered soul. "Lilly! Lilly! Tell me what's wrong!" Liars! They could care less about me or my broken life. Hate is a powerful word but for some of these unrelenting leeches I despise their motives and detest there fake presence. Who are they to respect me when all they have done is taunt me? I don't need their sickly comfort and two-faced behavior.

The only thing I care about right now is Miley and she is blissfully unaware of what is eating me up inside: Guilt, for I'm lying by pretending I'm okay. Hollow, for I know there's a chance she may reject me and that, above all, is preventing me from having that all important conversation with her. I'm scared that people will find out and tease and laugh just because I'm – I'm … _different_.

Every night after dinner my mom and I will wash the dishes and discuss my little secret in the shadows of our own home. Although she's trying her hardest to help she just doesn't understand because she keeps persuading me to talk to Miley, confess and have faith. In my opinion her route is leaving too much up to chance. However, lately she's been less attentive with the dog she carries around like an accessory and more focused upon her daughter: me, and on some level I'm touched she wants to be so involved in my adolescent problems but another wishes I was the only one who knew, just so I could have doubts and eventually fall into the trap of believing I'm hallucinating.

One step at a time … That's what Elaine said over the period of our last three meetings. Apparently I'm following the common stages of accepting difference and change, always reassuring me that there's nothing wrong with me and what I'm feeling is perfectly _normal_. Yeah, if my dad found out he wouldn't see it that way. The world we live in is dangerously enclosed and on a set path, thin and narrow. How can I compete with half of the society who I sicken?

I'm tiptoeing across a shaky bridge with bubbling lava underneath and one foot at a time I'm getting ready to fall over the edge, even though I try to desperately keep my balance and not look down. The goal is right there, distant but within sight. It may as well be a million miles away and buried under the ground because the chance of me reaching it, with this pessimism overruling me, is next to none.

Never having suffered serious depression before I'm not really sure of the symptoms. Does ones stomach feel like it's twisted in knots? Does ones head pound and throb at the thought of being left here all alone where no one understands me? Isolated, secluded, detached from civilization... Maybe I need to be segregated.

Aside from thinking those miserable thoughts I occupy myself with glancing furtively at Miley when I have the glimmer of a chance to do so. Automatically when you have a crush you happen to stare at them dreamily, therefore picking up their mannerisms second-hand. I've noticed that when Miley is excited about something she'll bite her lip adorably and her accent gets noticeably thicker (husky), she subconsciously fiddles with the necklace I bought her while she's day-dreaming, she walks in such an unknowingly sexy strut that –

Every part of her is indented into my brain, hammered into my skull, playing with my mind. She's there- so close yet so far. I feel like I know all of her clothes, what make-up she has, the styles of her hair like the back of my hand. My intuitive side notices these things and stores it secretly away where I pick each picturesque vision out when I'm alone…

"Are you boycotting _all _of the school events this year?" Oliver complains as he turns around in art and gives me a frown to portray his general disagreement about my not attending any pointless after-school activities.

"Yes," I reply stubbornly and smear paint on my paper. "What's it to you?"

"Because I want my best friend to actually come to one of these things so we can laugh and joke and have fun! You _do_ remember how to do that right?"

"Of course I do!" I snap tetchily and dab my paintbrush venomously so it almost punctures the page. My initial thought when the teacher asked us to do a piece on whatever inspires us the most was to draw Miley leaning against her bed with her guitar, strumming to her own beat. I'm no artist but I did originally try to get the outline of her perfect figure, closing my eyes and bringing myself back to fourteen days ago when I heard her play me that song. That song …

"Sorry for trying to get you to stop being a hermit!" Oliver said indignantly, in a half-whisper because Mrs. Clark with her beady spectacles was looking our way from her cluttered desk. "What is wrong with you, Lilly? You've been … not-like-you for two weeks and I'm really starting to get worried!"

Poor Oliver. He only cares and I'm pushing him away. Would _he _understand? What if he was secretly pining away for Miley like I am? Undue stress would follow.

"Sorry," I mutter weakly and stop stabbing at the resilient page.

Oliver nods unsurely. "Why don't you skip art and go see your physiatrist?" he suggests.

I snort. "She's so unhelpful."

"Talk to Miley then," he persists determinedly. "I'm not a girl so if it's a girl thing I won't understand. I know Miley will though."

His words make me choke on my gum and I swallow it with a purple face, coughing into my hand and holding up my other as to salute the vicinity that I was okay and not going to die. Great word choice Oken. 'A girl thing… Miley will understand …'

That's what they all say.

"Wanna' go to movies this Friday night?" He's not giving up. "Miley can come and-"

I hear her name and the knots in my stomach tighten. Damn it, every time someone mentions her …

"The beach?" he looks hopeful. "My house, your house, Miley's house? Skate Park? Mall?"

"Oliver no!" I snap and hang my head so my blonde hair covers my face. "I-I have a lot of homework," I lie quietly and I know he's glowering at me.

"Whatever," he mumbles and attacks his painting with a little aggression too.

The room we are trapped in smells of turpentine, abstract art lines the walls and in the corners unusual clay models sit on wicker tables. The sun is defiantly staying hidden behind a cloud so there is no light outside. It has a gloomy feel about it, something I can instantaneously relate to. When was the last time I laughed? Smiled? And I don't mean when Miley is beside me.

"Lilly …" we are walking to our next lesson and Oliver quickens his pace to stay in sync with my hasty footsteps, clearing his throat and hovering over me. "Can we talk?"

"We're going to be late for English."

"No," he shakes his head and grips my arm with surprising strength. "_Now_." And with that he pulls me away from the mob of students to the courtyard outside, pushing me down onto a deserted bench.

"I have to meet Miley outside her drama room!" My eyes flash dangerously at him but he remains unaffected. "Oliver! What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm already failing English; I need to get to class!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong!" he stubbornly refuses to let me pass and folds his arms superiorly while he raises one eyebrow.

Not only am I angry about the fact I'm late for meeting Miley, I'm also panicking because Oliver is looking at me with a knowing look in his eye. He's a stupid boy! How he could he have picked up on anything, the basic function of his brain processes two things: girls and food.

"Ms. Truscott? Mr. Oken?" Mrs. Kay sticks her head out of the window in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing, lessons have started?"

Without a backwards glance I scurry off, making myself small and insignificant. Oliver is somewhere behind me but I put on a spurt of speed and outpace him. Obviously he wants to know why I'm isolating myself but a part of me doesn't think he can handle it. But maybe he already knows …

"Silly Lilly!" Miley remarks fondly as I enter the classroom and apologize to the supply teacher; Mr. Ward has an 'illness' which undoubtedly interprets as a hangover.

"Smiley Miley," I say back to her with my voice sounding slightly croaky and my throat as dry as the desert. As I sit down and kick my bag underneath my desk with my heart thumping Oliver slides in the room, stares at me, then proceeds to his own chair by Jake Ryan in the opposite corner.

"Where were you? I waited outside of drama." Miley asks thoughtfully and I slink away from her oh so cute worried expression because I can't gather my words when her attention is on me. In my head I have the perfect reply lined up but my mouth will not cooperate, nor make any noise whatsoever.

"A-art," I improvise and haul my notebook from my bag to have something to do with my shaking hands. "Got held up."

"What did you do today?" she asks simply with her brow furrowed as she scans her black nail polish; one of her nails has chipped and she's clearly unimpressed.

"Painted a picture," I answer nervously. "Whatever inspires me the most."

"Did you pick Beyonce?" she jokes lightly and turns her chair around to face me, warmth radiating from her gaze, a playful smirk upon her lips. (What do they taste like? I torture myself by pondering...)

"Actually Ms. Know- It –All, I tried to paint a picture of-"

"Justin Timberlake?"

"Ha-ha," I mutter sarcastically and lose my already riled nerve.

Miley giggles and lets her hand fall on my arm; I freeze and seize up.

"Who did you really paint, Lil?"

Her hair, so pretty, hangs long and curly down her back and along her forearms. That shirt, so tight and girly, makes my mind cloud over and my eyes threaten to linger on a part of her anatomy not platonically acceptable. The necklace she is wearing is the one I gave her and she never takes it off, its stupid but I feel proud that I've somehow left my mark on her …

"Lilly?" she clicks her fingers to interrupt my stupor. "You're always zoning out. Come back to Earth my little day-dreamer!"

_My_. Miley said that I was _hers_ … Claim me, Miley! I want you …

"I drew you," I say almost silently, blushing deeply. Courage forces my head up and she looks flattered at my admittance.

"I inspire you?" she whispers, speaking softly probably not to break our _moment._ .

Nodding, I sink down into my jacket and fiddle with the zip as she flips her hair over her shoulder and straightens up, a little smile still on her face.

When we have a substitute teacher the class is not interested in learning but settles instead for socializing and making noise. At sixteen the boys are still immature, the girls are still Barbie dolls and Miley and I are still the outsiders to their cliques. Not that I mind, I have the most perfect of them all. She's _my_ best friend. _Mine_. Luckily, Jenny Brooke is not in this class otherwise I would be in a foul mood, uttering profanities at her under my breath and wishing her a painful death as I fight for Miley's attention. It's so stupid, _I'm _so stupid for being so petulant about the whole thing but I'm insecure, jealous and need Miley's promises that she won't go off and ditch me for anyone.

"After school will you come over to mine because I want to talk to you about something?"

Talk to _me_? About _something_? Yes, yes! Could it be- is it time – What is her secret? Of course I want to assume what it could be but my optimistic side is forever searching for the bright outlook. My pessimistic side stomps on my futuristic wishes and gloom settles on me as I nod numbly in reply, a hint of a smile present on my face.

"Great," she whispers and lets her hand linger on my arm before tearing it away to busy herself with her bag.

Was it my wild imagination or did she just tremble before letting go?

Miley excuses herself to go to the toilet and as she leaves I sink down in my chair, close my eyes and rub my temples. I thought this mind-numbing confusion had gone, I thought I was going to be okay… _Miley_ is being perplexing. _Miley_ is making this so damn difficult! It hurts like someone is stabbing me with needles repeatedly in the heart yet this pain will not stop, perhaps forever and over time it'll keep getting worse until-

"You can't avoid me forever," Oliver sighs and settles himself in Miley's vacated chair.

Not again. There are only so many interrogations I can get through in a day. My charade is slipping …

"Talk to me, Lilly. _Please_. I hate to see you so quiet and upset, its just not you. When you don't smile it doesn't feel right."

"Can't you just drop it and leave me alone?" I scold impatiently. "I'm fine."

"No, you're obviously not!"

"Yes, I am!"

"I'm your best friend and I'm begging you to tell me what's bothering you!"

"FINE!" I explode and heads swivel momentarily. Amber and Ashley sneer condescendingly. "Fine," I submit at my regular tone.

Oliver looks like he's anticipating a great revelation with the way he's eagerly awaiting my explanation, his eyes wide open and his hands folded on the desk. Maybe I can trust him; maybe he can help me …

"Do we have to do this here?" I look around but we have our privacy. My argument falls short of the mark and I curse under my breath. Since he's been my best friend since pre-school he'll understand and not judge me. I'm still Lilly, the tomboyish skate boarder (although I have been trying to dress nicer) the only thing that appears to have changed is my orientation for a certain girl.

That doesn't make me wrong. I'm young, naïve and still with this innocence. It's not a sin, its not morally disgusting, its just fate that I can't fight. People need to grow accustomed to that. I don't have an infectious disease or an epidemic influenza, to evade me because of other people's beliefs is-

"Come on, Lilly." Oliver encourages and reaches for my hand.

"I'm not dying," I state wittingly and pull it back.

For some reason Oliver smiles at our little interaction. "That's the Lilly I know," he refers to my dry wit and humorless sarcasm. "Whatever it is I promise I'm going nowhere."

"I think I love Miley!" I blurt out quickly. Hard and fast: like a band-aid. The wound is exposed and Oliver is looking at me a little shocked.

Oh no, oh God! I've ruined our friendship! Oliver, Oliver! You can't leave me either … Why am I so fucking different? Why me! Why me? Why … Hot tears prick my eyes but I swallow and squeeze my arm to prevent them falling. Over the entire duration I haven't cried, for the day I cry will be the day I break.

"Come here," Oliver says and coughs because his voice has gone husky. He leans over and envelopes me in a hug, something I gladly reciprocate, holding onto him tightly and he whispers in my ear; soft, comforting … He doesn't hate me, he says he's had his mild suspicions and he loves me no matter what or who I like.

"Thank-you." I murmur slowly letting him go. "Oliver I-"

"You need to tell her," Oliver smiles. "Lilly, you know that you do so don't give me that face. Miley is a very special person. She won't run away."

Saying it is one thing, doing it is another. Am I really ready to put my teenage life on the line? What does she want to tell me tonight when I go to hers? Do I tell her my secret?

"Howdy," Miley greets us as she stands over us and smiles.

"Hey …"

"Sup, Miles." Oliver salutes and struggles to get up as he's wedged in.

Laughing, Miley tugs him out and he grins sheepishly and hurries back over to Jake Ryan, winking at me before he departs.

"I can't wait for tonight," I tell her cautiously. "I love spending time with you."

"And I you."

I watch her as she messes around with her bag again and to my surprise her eyes look red and slightly puffy. Heart thumping, I turn away but out of the corner of my eye I see her wipe away the remnants of her anguish.

Has she been crying?

I want to question her but instead I remain silent with my heart drilling a tattoo against my chest.

Maybe tonight everything can change.

……………………………………………………………………………………

**I hope this lived up to everyone's expectations. Please tell me what you thought, any opinion is valued. Also thank-you to the loyal reviewers who have stuck with me since chapter one. **


	6. Simultaneous Revelations

**I apologize for the lack of updates recently. I've just survived mock exam week ****at school and I've been swamped under a mound of stress.**

**I hope this story is still enjoyable, I don't know if I did this chapter right. Something doesn't seem to fit … But you guys be the judge. **

……………………………………………………………………………

To say I was worried would be an understatement. Miley holds me captivated in the palm of her hand, I just wish she'd hold it close and grasp it tight.

I've never been in love before. Before I didn't really believe I could love anyone in _that_ way but she changed everything. You just know when you see that special person… I used to ask my old skater friends how they knew that they liked someone and they would always reply (smugly) that you get this unmistakable feeling in the pit of your stomach and when they smile your heart races. However, they usually had a cigarette in their hand and a bottle of cheap beer in the other so I doubt they really knew what they were saying. Despite that what they said was true, only it was _love_ not like and there's no mistaking it. Yes, my heart flutters when she smiles. Yes, my stomach swoops when I look into her eyes.

My mom, who is almost an expert in the relationship criteria, said the same thing. When you find your one you just _know_. That's all it can be explained as because sometimes feelings can't be put into words. Especially mine. I'm not the most vocal when it comes to something sincere and heartfelt but I can kick and scream when something angers the hell out of me.

"Are you going to Miley's?" Matt asks as he walks past me as I sit out on the garden wall after school, legs kicking idly and arms outstretched behind me for stability. "You seem to live there nowadays."

"You should be happy," I retort, shielding my eyes from the sun. "Any normal older brother would terrorize their sister's room while they were gone."

"Since when have I been normal?" Matt raises an eyebrow questioningly and I remain quiet, his rhetorical answer making the knot in my side twist. For the last fourteen days I've been trying to find an excuse to what my feelings could be described as besides _abnormal_.

His eyes scan the front of our house and I can see him contemplating on whether to sit down with me and ask what's wrong but another part of him knows I won't tell him so it's pointless to try. If he found out what would my brother think of me? He's always been the one to pick up the pieces after I have a row with dad but I don't think he can understand this.

I've never felt so secluded before …

If my sister was still here she'd know what to do to help me …

Matt doesn't move and I know he's waiting for a sign from me, but I stay silent. If he wants to sit with me in my misery that's his choice. Why anyone would want me is a mystery, I'm damaged goods. I'm a waste of time and energy. Just leave me here to rot in a world where I'll never be with that special (_special_) someone, no matter how much I crave her.

To my surprise he hops up beside me without saying a word and we both stare out into the distant ocean, the sun reflecting in the placid water. This is therapeutic … watching the waves drift in and out, listening to the gentle breeze and the sound of the birds cawing.

My Malibu.

My brother and I haven't really been close but then again we haven't been distant either. We tolerate what we have to and just mind our own business (you don't pry into my life and I won't yours) but I feel a wave of gratitude towards my sibling as he sits beside me on this lonely wall. Maybe just being there is better than speaking. Having a strong presence in the vicinity makes you want to hold it all together for the sake of not looking like a failure in the others eyes.

Being alone can drive you into madness …

"Have you ever been scared of being who you are?"

I feared he would mock me, tease me by saying: 'You? Scared! I thought you were emotionless!' but instead he pushes his thick blonde hair from his forehead where his bangs are covering his blue eyes (my shade) and side-glances with a neutral expression. "Sometimes."

Nodding, I scrape my fingernails along the wall, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

But nothing comes so I proceed. "I mean scared of what other people think of you ... or might think of you if you be yourself."

"I guess." He replies passively. "It's hard to be someone you're not so if people can't accept it then they're not worth the time."

"What if ..." I hesitate, thinking I'm pushing the limits, "You had this big secret that could change everything but it concerns one of the people closest to you?"

"Is this about Miley?" Matt jumps straight in after playing my little game. No Matt. Don't break the rules. My rules … Don't talk about her for you can't get inside my head. You don't see what I see. You don't hurt like I hurt.

"No!" I snap on reflex.

"Lilly," Matt warns in the same tone of voice my dad scolds me with. "You're lying."

I guess I'm full of unforgivable sins.

"I'm not lying! God, what are you? Fucking Sherlock Homes!"

"That's how I know that it's about Miley!" Matt leaps up and faces me in agitation. We both have short tempers. "You get temperamental whenever someone mentions her and scream and shout and act all defensive!"

I spit on the ground and jump up, wiping my hands on my jeans furiously, ready to barge past him and disappear into the dusk. I should have known this sentimental moment was too good to be real.

"If it's about Miley I suggest you tell her whatever the hell is bothering you because it's obviously eating you up inside! God, Lilly, you're not even there anymore! You just walk around with this far away look on your face so if you don't tell that girl what's going on with you I'll beat the shit out of you until you do! Got it?"

From that I know he cares. Matt and I interact with idle threats and colorful curses, but even though he's glaring at me I see in his eyes he's more worried and concerned.

More than anything it tames the fire burning inside.

"Okay …" I go to grab his hand but stop myself. We're never touchy-feely and I'm not starting now. "Okay … I'll tell Miley what's bothering me."

He cools down and looks slightly guilty at his outburst. "Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"Not really."

"I thought you'd say that but it was worth a shot."

"You're still a fucking jerk." I say and kick a stone on the sidewalk, watching it move.

Matt smiles (I've forgotten what a real one looks like). "And you're still a moody bitch."

I roll my eyes and push past him to make my way to the beginning of the end. To Miley's.

"Want a ride?" he yells after me and points to the jumble of junk he calls a car.

"I'd rather-"

"You're welcome for the offer!" he gives me the thumbs up and I almost smile. _Almos_t.

Oh to live in a world with no problems. To live in a place, another universe maybe, where I can finally be accepted for just who I am.

"Lilly?" Matt shouts halfway down the street and I have a flashback of the last time this happened. A few years ago when I was eager to get to school because it was Miley's second day and I wanted to befriend her. He yelled after me to be careful on the roads … a slip of brotherly affection. That has never happened since. We grew apart after I indulged in my unsociable ways. He was the good one and I was forever the bad one.

"I love you!" he declares to our silent entire street and I almost trip over my own feet in astonishment. What eighteen year old high school graduate does that? This is why the fucking world is so messed up.

Rolling my eyes I yell back, "I love you too, Matt." And finish with a sarcastic wave. Surprisingly I feel enlightened. If I can yell that to my older brother from down the street where anyone can see me surely I can gather the guts to confess to Miley I'm in love with her.

"Red or pink?" Miley sticks out both hands with different colored nail polish, an adorable frown on her face s she studies each.

"Pink," I reply after a moments thought. "You can suit any color." Subtle but still a compliment.

"So could you." Miley blows on her dry nails and looks at me seriously. Ouch! When she looks at me like that my heart does a somersault and more often than not it comes with a sharp, painful jab.

"Sure." I roll my eyes in disbelief and sit up on her bed.

"You could!" she persists.

Why doesn't she just give up on me? When I compare us I don't even deserve to be in her presence, never mind label as the best friend. All of the people in the world and she chose me … me. Why? Bad things happen to good people. If only I could-

"Lilly?" Miley asks tentatively and stands up slowly and carefully, tugs down her shirt as it rides up.

"Yes Miley?" I answer half hopefully, but not expecting any dramatic revelation. Over the last few days I've learnt not to let innocent sentences spiral into so much more in my head.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Anything!" I shoot at her eagerly, my heart suddenly thumping.

She smiles at my encouragement and looks around her room shyly before taking a deep breath. Gripping my hand, my nails digging into my palm, I watch her attentively.

"I don't really know how to say this …" she laughs and drags a hand through her hair and I can see the war transpiring in her mind. To tell or not to tell. I have become accustomed to that look. Many an hour I spend gazing into my mirror with the same look of brutal, agonizing confusion.

"I'm going nowhere." I firmly state and wait for her to continue, anxiously.

"I've been doing some thinking over the last few months …"

And! _And_?

"And?" I press on with trepidation, my voice breaking. Please, please, _please_ let this be the moment. Let my life have a shed of light, make that rainy sky fade away into nothingness. Let me smile … Oh God just let me have her. I've never asked for anything else. I just … _need_ her so much. This pain, this frustration, its tearing me down, wearing me away like acid rain on a stone statue.

"Lilly, I …" her nerve shatters and she looks at her feet and bites her lip with pink cheeks. "Can I play you something?"

"Y-Yes," I stutter breathlessly and she nervously walks over to her guitar. While her back is turned I wipe my hands on my jeans. Even under the circumstances I drink in her form. Her long, silky hair flowing down her back, her shoulders, her shirt, her … I blush and bite my tongue.

"Lilly …" Miley trails off again and sighs at her cowardice. Maybe we're both not vocal people. However, she speaks through her music, I speak through my actions.

She plucks her guitar strings absent mindedly, occasionally glancing up at me then hastily breaking our connection.

"Okay." She says defiantly and holds the guitar as steady as she can (her hands are shaking). "So …"

To speak now would be ludicrous. Miley is going to tell me her secret. She gathers strength and begins to play.

"_It's twisted  
Messed up  
And the more I think about it  
It's crazy, but so what  
I may never understand it  
I'm caught up and I'm hanging on  
I'm gonna love you even if it's wrong."_

If someone had swung for me with a pole I couldn't have been more gob smacked, nor could my jaw have hung open any further.

Apprehensively, Miley gently lays her guitar on her bed and wet tears line her perfect blue eyes. "I'm in love." She whispers to the ground and I am paralyzed with every emotion I could possibly feel.

Twisted. Messed Up. Even if it's wrong … she just wrote everything I could not say aloud. "Who?" I utter quietly, not sure whether to go over to her or not. Deep down I know the answer I just needed hear her say it. _Need_ her to let me have this one second of pure ecstasy.

"Don't hate me." She begs and my heart breaks at her vulnerability. "You." She admits and her eyes widen in fear.

When I fell in love with Miley Stewart there was not a single moment I thought she could feel the same way. Ever. I looked but knew I couldn't touch. I dreamt but knew I couldn't avoid reality. To hear her say that one syllable broke the dam within me and before I fully realized what I was doing broke down into reckless sobs, my face in my hands.

Did someone misaim good karma in my direction? Miley, she-she … I choke on my tears as they stream down my face and Miley stands wooden in the middle of her room with tears dripping down her own pale features, thinking she'd destroyed our friendship.

No, Miley! I need to yell to her she made me think the world isn't just a vortex of disillusionment. She is the ray of hope in an atmosphere full of hate.

Miley, she understands! She gets me … I'm not alone! Thank God I'm not alone!

"Lilly?" she squeaks and hurries to my side, afraid to sit near. "I'm so sorry! Don't hate me! Please don't hate me! I hate this, what I'm feeling. Lilly, please-"

"I feel something for you Miley," I tearfully gasp and stun her into silence. "And it scares me so much... I thought I was going to die with the pain of it … This secret, it's not just yours! I thought you'd hate me, I thought you'd leave me here all alone if I told you that I-I-"

"You never cry." Miley mumbles as our tears subside. "You're the strong one. I'm an emotional wreck."

"No Miley." I shake my head numbly. "I've never been the strong one." My soul is wide open for her to see and it frightens me how much I'm giving her of myself. Everything right now feel unreal, as though its not happening and any moment I'll wake up and detest my life even more.

"How long?"

"I don't know …" I fiddle with my thumbs feeling disoriented and muddled. "I just felt differently for you and everything just collapsed."

"We're going to get through this." Miley promises hoarsely. "Together."

I need to tell her how strongly I feel. I need to tell her how grateful I am, for everything, but no words fall out.

"Tell me when you're ready," she advises and from that moment I see her as nothing less than a person _Destiny_ allowed me to have. A blessing.

Because in real life. No girl ever gets the girl.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

**The song snippet is from Twisted by Carrie Underwood. **

**Please leave our opinion :) **


	7. We're Only Human

……………………………………………………………………………………..

To love someone is to give them all of your heart and trust them not to break it.

Don't withdraw your words, Miley … Don't look at my fragile soul and tear it apart with the regret you are bound to feel for who could love me? _Really_? In theory most people abide my rebellious and stubborn attitude yet under the surface crawls a dainty dislike.

Don't give me pity, Miley. I want you to mean what you say and say it because you feel it, not because you sense me hopelessly falling and the only way to regain gravity is to return my feelings. Don't Miley. Don't want me because I want you. That would only hurt me more and I know you care too much … God knows why. Most people don't.

I'm unruly, unmanageable and when I sit in my room in an enveloping silence, in the pitch black pitch black I wish it was me and not my sister who was dead. Dad loved her more …

We're sat in the living room, the lights are dim and the TV is playing but I know neither of us is watching it. We're on opposite ends of the couch, occasionally fidgeting and gently breathing as we scan our thoughts. What is she thinking? Her mind is whirring, I feel her thoughts but they are out of reach and indecipherable.

After I shed my tears she looked at me with sad eyes and no other words were spoken. Shouldn't this be euphoria? Somewhere deep inside I can feel my heart beating but its muffled and audible only when I think of _her_ … I'm confused. Miley said she felt the same way … I'm so confused.

"Miley?" I ask tentatively, feeling embarrassed. I cried in front of her, she's seen me at my worst and I feel so self conscious and exposed. No one has ever witnessed my break downs and no one ever will. She broke me open like a shell and we're now treading on the remains in this unknown realm. It scares me so much … A dull pounding makes my temple throb; my stomach twists and turns like I'm going to be sick.

She comes back to the present and smoothly turns her head, looking at me with starry eyes and a look I can't interpret. "Yes?" Her mouth curves as she mutters the word and I shrink into the couch, confidence disappearing. "Lilly?" she now asks as I pick at my fingernail nervously. "Lilly, talk to me." She implores and sits up a little straighter.

What does this mean, Miley? What are we? We're best friends! Right? _Right_? Nothing has changed between us; we still have that bond, that connection. Where do we go from here? We like each other, yes … Just tell me what you're thinking!

"What are you thinking?"

"Erm," Miley uncrosses her legs hesitantly and gathers her words carefully. "I'm … surprised." She settles for after a period of deafening silence.

"Surprised?" I echo.

"Because this is unexpected," she explains calmly and pauses as though trying to sophisticate her words. "I never thought that you'd – you've been acting weird lately and I never thought - I've been so worried and scared about what it all meant that there wasn't a second I thought you'd understand, much less feel the same way."

"Yeah," I gulp and massage my throat as it was hoarse. "I was so convinced that I was the only one who could get through it but I was wrong … It happened so fast yet so slow at the same time and half of the time I didn't know where I was. Everything was messed up, you know. Deep down I knew things were changing but I just didn't know what it was. Or more like I didn't try to find out what it was."

"It came naturally," Miley nodded. "When you were ready to accept it."

"And it felt like there wasn't anyone there who would reassure me that I wasn't disgusting. Sure I got empathy but they weren't going through what I was. More than anything, Miley, I was terrified of your reaction." I blushed as the weight lifted from my shoulders. To tell her what was eating me up inside was such a relief.

"I understand, Lilly." Miley whispers and I feel the uncommon urge to smile. "I understand all of it. And it scares me, too."

"You'll make me cry again," I attempt to break the ice, however weakly.

"You never cry." Miley says quietly and unsurely. "It made everything seem off balance when you cried earlier …"

I chuckle weakly. "I'm not strong." I pat my heart subconsciously. "I'm human." I hold my hand over it to feel it steadily beating. "And I'm in love and it makes no sense."

"Maybe it doesn't have to make sense." Miley suggests and folds her legs underneath her small body, eyes unfocused. "It's the thrill of exploring and finding out what we never knew at the beginning but you can't skip to the end to find the answers, to understand you have to take the journey."

This girl is a writer and the way she phrased it tugged at my newly tuned heartstrings. Listen closely and you can hear them twanging like an elastic band. She's right there. She's not forbidden anymore. Go grab her hand and tell her that you need her. Hold her close and whisper in her ear that you're in love and it doesn't make any of you wrong for being two girls. Tell her that you're right here and you want her to share all of her thoughts and dreams with you. Tuck her beautiful hair behind her ear and embrace her warm, soft body …

"We're not … abnormal." It sounds like a question. "We're just …"

"Different." I help and I finally grasp what I've been trying to figure out all along. We're just people, only human. Do we not have eyes to see and a nose to smell and legs to walk? Do we not bleed red blood? Do we not cry when we're sad, laugh when we're happy? Does our heart not beat like everyone else's? We're just people …_just _two young people who cause no harm. Do I hate you for liking the opposite sex? War. Poverty. Murder. And they still find time to criticize and sin innocent (for we didn't choose to be this) people who find themselves on a daily battle when life shouldn't be this hard

"What is abnormal?"

"What people see as a target." Miley says sadly and tears prick her eyes as she hugs the pillow. My stomach plummets at the heart wrenching sight. "They judge and they hurt, Lilly. They rip the people who are _different_ to shreds and I can't – I can't-" she inhales a shaky breath and I want to comfort her physically but I don't dare.

Right now I'm not sure where I stand.

"The song said it all." I say after a while of intense thought on how to handle this. "This is new, Miley. People don't need to know when you're not comfortable with yourself. I see it as maturing, you know. Its hormones and changes and we're being pulled along on a _journey_ that's not quite sure which path to take."

I never knew I had this much sentimentality in me. On some level I stand tall and proud at how I'm growing but I think of the consequences and cower underneath my once brazen attitude.

"We're taking it together though, right?" Miley trembles and squeezes her eyes so droplets trickle down her face. "I can't do this alone."

"You won't have to." I state fiercely and force my hand to stay clasped to my knee, trembling. "I need you, Miley. We'll figure this out together."

She holds out her hand on the middle cushion and I grasp it without a second thought, clutching it securely as we both let our fears and emotions join and unite.

I'm not alone …

I don't think we're a couple yet. It's more like a mutual path of self discovery. We talk in the privacy of our houses, stay inconspicuous within school and keep our secrets hidden.

The more time that passes the more I feel like I'm ready to be with her. We haven't had a conversation about being in a relationship but I find myself yearning for it more and more. I've passed the stages where I was in denial, steamrolled the confusion and left it behind in smoke. Now all I can think about is the feeling I get when I'm around her, wrapped up in her, enticed by her. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me.

Am I being blatantly obvious that I'm pining for her? Yes, we're harboring feelings but Miley rightfully said we should collect our own heads before stumbling blindly into something we're not sure we want. She's smart. It's so attractive. Maybe for her own benefit she has taken a custom to not touching me, just lingering glances in the lunch-room and sometimes classes. I'll catch her doing it and her cheeks will turn pink and she'll turn away like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and every time we go through the same routine I know we're getting closer.

Nothing else seems to matter now we're on even footing. We know where we stand and it's like a great burden has been lifted.

"Lilly?"

"What Oliver?"

"Can I ask you something?"

The wind whips my hair around my face and I brush it back impatiently as we casually step along the sidewalk after school. He's clearly agitated but I'm not paying attention. My thoughts are filled with Miley and what she was wearing today. Miley and that secret smile she gave me during homeroom. Miley who waved goodbye instead of giving me a hug … No psychical contact is beginning to take its toll even though I know it's to help her. People deal with it in their own way and Miley seems to think this'll help so I'm... helping.

"How do you know that you're … _gay_?" Oliver lowers his voice and scratches his nose bashfully, feeling a little ashamed for asking such a bold question.

"How do you know that you're straight?" I retaliate and sigh. Its only natural, he's curious. Who wouldn't be?

Oliver smiles a lopsided smile. "That's a very good answer."

"I just know," I shrug dumbly, not being able to explain it to anyone other than Miley who can complete my trailing sentences because she knows from personal experience.

"Did Miley turn you gay?" Oliver slightly smirks but I know he's joking.

It hits me. "Maybe she did." I think aloud with surprise. Before I've never as so much looked twice at a girl. Maybe all it needs is that one specific person to draw it out of you. Miley was my person. But she was also my best friend so we had already built a foundation. With Miley all of the knowledge is there, we don't need dates to get to know each other.

"I was only joking," Oliver says incredulously. "Did she really?"

"It's more about the person ... not about the gender." I explain cautiously. "I fell for her personality first and then I found myself liking all of her girly qualities. Like the way she walks and how she fiddles with her hair when she daydreams. Just the little stuff that she does."

"I've never heard you sound so deep." Oliver looks genuinely surprised and heartened. "Wow, Lilly, maybe she is your one."

Oliver believes in fairytales and castles, the rescue of princesses by chivalrous knights, the happy ever after. In a way that side of him was what drew us into friendship. He looks for the good in life and before all I found was the bad. Oliver is my rock, my safety net. When all else fails I run back to him and he'll set me back on my feet until the next disaster.

"Why are you so cool about this?" I wonder as we turn a corner.

"Why wouldn't I be cool about it?" Oliver sounds bemused. "I can't exactly say don't be who you are because other people might not like it. You've always been different Lil, unique and I've always admired you for it. This is something you're going through and I'm right here by your side to do whatever I can to help. It's not everyday you find yourself in love with your best friend."

"Yeah …"

We reach my house and I warily survey the exterior.

"Is everything ok?" Oliver stands by my side and I know he means with my family.

"Is anything ever okay?" I ask rhetorically and he gets the picture and backs away.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow." He waves and carries on down the road, glancing back but when he realizes I've seen him, giving a guilty smile and a shrug. He cares too much. I'm a big girl now. I can handle myself.

My mom is hunched over a cooking book as I dump my things by the hallway and announce I'm home. She's wearing a luminous pink apron and has a smudge of flour on her nose while Holly, her Chihuahua, sits intuitively in her pink basket, matching the jewels on her collar. How is it that the dog gets more expensive things than I do? Ever since dad took up golf my mom has a hobby of her own: Holly. It actually stands for Hollywood but I told my mom to shorten it because even though this is California, we don't need a stereotypical pedigree with a name more prominent than a celebrities.

"How was school, honey?" she knocks over the bag of sugar and curses.

"It was school," I answer and hoist myself up on a stool. "Boring."

"What lessons did you have?" she adjusts the temperature of the oven with a frown and consults the book again and looks at the ingredients in the bowl with disbelief.

"The usual ones."

"Can't you ever go into detail?"

"No." I reply smartly and stick my finger in the mixture only to gag and spit it into a scented napkin. My mom really can't cook.

"How was Miley today?" she moves onto interrogating as she tips the entire bowl of mixture into the trash to start from scratch, proceeding to crack an egg and spill half of it on the counter. Leaning back, my heart skips a beat at just her name.

"She's still getting closure." I flick through a magazine to have something to do with my hands. "She's just …" What is she doing now? It's been over two week since we admitted we liked each other. Shouldn't we be making progress? I'm ready to take the risk … shouldn't she be? Together. That's what she said. Our journey is going to be taken together but we're can't ever reach the end when we don't even set off. All I need is baby steps, a pace in the right direction. I want her to tell me she loves me again, I want her to hug me and whisper consolations into my ear.

"Why don't you talk to her, Lil?" My mom pokes her nose in. "You're obviously ready for some kind of a relationship, some commitment and she should know where you're at. Maybe she's ready and as antsy as you."

"I'm not antsy!" I yell and glare at her.

My mom raises her eyebrow like Miley does when she knows she's right.

"I'm not!" I stubbornly refuse. Honestly, what mom says that their daughter is antsy?

My mom just snorts and whisks the eggs with a wooden spoon. "You're sixteen, you're hormonal and you are at a phase in your life where having a different kind of attraction to someone is perfectly normal. Being attracted to Miley psychically as well as emotionally isn't a bad thing, Lil. Everyone has those thoughts, those desires-"

I quickly extricate myself from her presence, not wanting to listen to another version of The Talk since the first three attempts were so abysmal. My mom tries and that's what makes it all the worse as she really can't get into the teenage mindset.

Sighing, I take her advice and go to seek out Miley, passing my dads office on the way to the door. He's typing on his computer. He wouldn't accept me for what I am. Yes, dad, I'm in love with a girl. You've always been looking for a reason to hate me even more, go on and take this as it's the mother of all disappointments.

Through everything I still care what he thinks and that's what hurts me even more.

"Did you know there are only two openly gay people in the entire school?" Miley addresses me as we sit out on her deck and trace patterns in the sand with our fingers. "There's only one bisexual I know of."

"She used to be a cheerleader right?" I rack my brains to remember. Back when it happened I hadn't thought much of it. Now I wish I had paid more attention.

"Didn't she quit?" Miley wrinkles her nose to think and a lump appears in my throat as I watch.

"She came out …" I browse through the time line. "And the captain made her quit."

"Because the squad complained." Miley completes and shakes her head pitifully.

"Were they afraid she was going to check them out in the changing room?" I say indignantly and anger courses through my veins at the injustice. "It pisses me off when people automatically think that a person who might like the same sex is going to be attracted to every single person. Do girls like all boys? No. Do boys like all girls? No! It's just the same!"

"They just don't understand …" Miley mutters and pulls her knees to her chest.

I'm ready to tell her I want a relationship. We've had our time to think and come to terms with each other and now I want to proceed into something that would make me deliriously happy and content. If she'd let me I'd make her glad that she gave me a chance, glad that she told me.

"Miles?" My heart is violent, spears stab at my chest.

"Hmm?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Where am I?" Miley repeats, confused though she shouldn't be.

"With us I mean." I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts and look out at the ocean, feeling embarrassed.

"Where are you at?" she turns the tables and I'm about to tell her that I asked first but then I realize I need to seize the moment and make things happen. They won't always be spoon-fed to me. Its time to take those baby steps. "I want to be with you."

"You're ready?"

"I'm ready," I clarify nervously. "Do you … want to be with me?"

"I think I do." Miley nods and picks up a handful of sand. "I think its time I stopped worrying and just _lived_."

Life _is_ for living. If we live in fear then what golden opportunities will pass us by? This is one I'm not willing to give up. Miley _is_ life. And I'm going to live.

Even if it kills me.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

**I want to give a big thank-you for all of the people who have reviewed so far. Your kind words have been the motivation for this chapter, and without you and your consistent encouragement I doubt I would have made it this far. ****Again, a big thank-you.**

**Hopefully this chapter makes up for the wait and please leave a review telling me your opinion. :)**

**BTW: If you haven't checked out Miley's music video for Start All Over then I suggest you do so. It's on youtube. I personally think its one-of-a-kind and completely random, just as Miley intended. **


	8. Content

For once I feel … complete. Happy even. The last time I felt this fulfilled was years ago back when my dad didn't hate me and we lived a normal family life, back when I was an obedient robot and had no opinion. Remembering my childhood days is something I don't like to do, just because I can't stand to see the before and then look at the after. Back then my mom had glasses and tied her hair in a bun, now she's got extensions and bigger breasts. Even dad was nicer … or maybe it was because I was young and vulnerable that I was blindsided by his outer image. Inside he doesn't care about me, not since I dressed differently and took up skateboarding.

And the worst part is I still want him to accept me.

However, I like feeling content and whole, free and light. Miley has had another amazing effect on me; she's unknowingly dragged me from my endless pit of despair by just being her and accepting me for who I am. In her presence I feel like nothing is impossible, she just makes me a better person. I can smile when she's there. A real smile.

These past two weeks have passed in a blur, a dizzy-making experience as though time has been on fast-forward. It's strange. Just fourteen days ago every second seemed like an hour, every hour seemed like a day. Now that I'm no longer hiding within my steadily fixing body I can appreciate the small wonders of being alive. Before I was oblivious to anything but my heartache but being with her and knowing she wants me in return has resurrected my soul in a way. If I believed in that stuff of course. No God of mine is one where same gender pairings are condemned to hell, just for being in love.

Fallen leaves scatter the sidewalk; wind whistles a pleasant tune through the vegetation as I pace along rather quickly, eager to see her. My girl. My Miley. My skin itches to be in contact with hers, my arms long to wrap around her in a loving embrace, even my eyes burn to see her (the image in my head can't compare to the real thing. What can?)

We're taking it slow. Our … relationship. She's my girlfriend, I'm hers and just that little label, that brand, is all the reassurance I need right now. Just to see her smile at me is enough, to see her blue eyes sparkle is timeless. Miley isn't very forward with me, she's shy and considerate and it makes me fall under her spell even more. More often than not I'm usually the one who moves to hold her hand, to be the one to inch closer as we watch TV. But then she smiles and I know we're in this together. My Miley.

Mine.

"Hey!" Miley greets me at the door enthusiastically and my heart pounds at the fact she is genuinely happy to see me. "Come in, come in." She beckons me inside and I do so with a smile. As I'm stepping over the threshold I take a hurried second to scan her outfit: soft jeans and a white t-shirt. Casual. Oh, how my knees tremble and my blood races. What she does to me is- is … indescribable. And she doesn't intend to, she doesn't know.

"You look pretty," I murmur softly as she closes the door, tentatively meeting her shimmering eyes, feeling a little flustered under her full gaze.

"Thanks," she whispers just as soft and we share a secret smile, a secret moment. Before we admitted we liked each other Miley used to tell me I was beautiful all of the time and I would scoff at her illusion. Now she hasn't summoned up the courage to do so, but I don't mind. I enjoy complimenting her, to see that red tinge creep up her cheeks. To me that is reward enough.

Awkwardly, she steps closer and once again my heart leaps to my throat in harsh anticipation. What is she going to do? Her dad is in the kitchen … Then she looks wary and I gently touch her arm. At that contact she looks down briefly and decides to do whatever she first intended on doing.

To my surprise I feel warm and comforting arms fold around me and I, in turn, wrap my own arms around her tiny waist, making sure to hold her tight to let her know without words that what she is doing is perfectly fine. Sometimes she needs a nudge in the right direction. She's more nervous and unsure than I am. But she's mine. At times I wish she'd pin me up against the wall and have her inner desires come to life but I like where we are. The shy touches and lingering glances. This pace is slow but helpful. Maybe somehow I can help her to be more … casual with me. Like when we were best friends. No matter what she does I'm still going to love her, I just wish she'd be more physical with me, like she was Jake Ryan.

Our first kiss is yet to happen.

Over her shoulder I see her dad looking at us and my initial thought is to let go and make a joke, but then Miley would fall lower on the confidence meter and it would take weeks for her to recover and try another form of physical contact. No, I'm not letting her go until she moves. I want this, I _need_ this. My oxygen, she's my oxygen.

"Lilly," she says into my ear and I melt at the sound. Why am I so weak around her? Where is my wall? My defensive wall? Where is the girl who used to drink and swear and make out with random guys every Friday night? That girl never existed in my mind. She was a phase, an awful phase. "Lilly?"

"Huh?" I abruptly let go of her waist as I realize she's no longer hugging me. "Sorry."

A musical laugh greets my ears – unique and special. Miley progresses to the kitchen in high spirits and raids the fridge for a drink.

Mr. Stewart winks at me as he sips his coffee and I stand next to him at the island while he reads through a boring document. "Hey Lilly."

"Sup Mr.S."

"Are you staying for dinner tonight?" he asks as though expecting the answer.

I silently ask Miley as she turns around for glasses and she nods hopefully.

"Yes," I say, pleased.

"Miles?" Mr. Stewart addresses his only daughter as I fiddle with a place mat. "Before I forget I want to let you know that I'm going to be out late at a Hannah meeting tomorrow – Saturday, and Jackson is going to some concert with his new girlfriend. Do you want to ask Lilly to sleep over?"

My heart freezes- a night with Miley? Unsuspecting Mr. Stewart has no clue what he's just done.

"Lilly?" What is she thinking? Since we've been together we haven't had any sleepovers. Then again I don't want her to feel alone as she's left in the house … not like I did when I was younger.

"I'd love to stop over." I help Miley pour the drinks, standing beside her as Mr. Stewart reads some fine print out loud about the reason for his meeting, what it's going to entail. At first I listen as I'm interested in what goes on in my girlfriends alter ego life but then her hand touches mine and suddenly I can't function.

"What do you think, Miles?" her dad asks after reaching the end of the paragraph.

"It's great!" she confirms and lets her hand linger for few seconds before pulling away with the drinks. "We're going upstairs, daddy."

"I'll call you when dinners ready."

From step to step we gradually reach the top of the stairs and she strolls into her room. Closing the door, I take in the familiar surrounding with a blissful sigh. I like it in here. The room is so neutral and collected. Miley sets down the refreshments on her bedside table and stands with one hand on hip, thinking.

"Can I ask you something?" I boldly take the lead.

"Sure," Miley says and steps closer. My palms are beginning to sweat.

"Is this weird?" I motion to her and me. "I know it's a little strange to be best friends and suddenly more but I don't want to feel like we're going to fall apart. You don't – you don't ..." I become incredibly hot and bothered. "Touch me."

Miley's cheeks burn bright red but she doesn't look away and neither do I. "I've never done this before," she starts and I know she means with a girl. "I'm trying to build some sort of foundation and when I touch you I feel like – like throwing caution to the wind. And I don't want to do that because having this work means so much. When we touch I can't … keep that foundation."

Wow. So that's what it is? When we touch she feels the way I do. That everything is blurry and hazed. Something as simple as brushing shoulders makes me want to express my feelings on a deeper level. It's somewhat surreal that it's the same thing for her. "I understand about the foundations bit, I want to set some ground as well but I also … want us to be open around each other."

"I'm sorry, Lil," she sighs and rubs her temples. "I've never been this nervous around you and it's just … unnerving."

I grab her hand. "Don't ever be nervous, Miles. Be yourself, be how you used to be around me. The rest will just come natural. Yes, I'm a girl but it doesn't mean you can't be intimate with me. Just start off small, you know? Hold my hand … whatever you feel comfortable doing. I'm not pushing you into anything, this whole dating thing is still a mystery to me."

"You always know the right things to say." She clasps my hands tighter and I smile.

"Anything to help," I say humbly and flash her a grin, She sits down on the edge of her bed and I follow suit, still holding her hand. "See?" I grin sheepishly. "This ain't so bad." I let our entwined hands rest on my knee and she laughs and tucks a strand of satiny brunette hair behind her ear.

"This is nice." She heaves a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you told me that … I was just afraid of taking things too far when you wanted to go slow."

"Hey." I turn to face her a little more so our knees are touching; my heart skips a beat. "You set the pace, ok. I'm comfortable with whatever you're comfortable with."

"Right." She mock salutes and my old Miley is back. Even though the past two weeks have been bliss she hasn't been herself but now we've had the conversation that was worrying her so much we're moving forward. When she's like this with me; playful and flirty I feel like I could die a happy death.

"Now we're back on track what do you want to do?"

"Let's do what we do best," I grin and pretend to inch my spare hand to tickle her. She squeals and shuffles away, letting go of my hand and I sit there and pout.

"What?" she laughs and sweeps a finger across my lip, making me shudder. "Don't give me that face. You were about to launch an unprovoked attack!"

"Unprovoked!" I snort and lean over to grab Beary to swing it around her head. "Now _that_ was unprovoked!" I smirk as she looks at me with an evil glint.

"Lilly Truscott you better learn to sleep with your eyes open!" She stands up and brushes down her clothes and tangles her hand in her hair to straighten it out though the cuddly toy did no damage. Miley: such a perfectionist.

I sit up angelically. "I like it when you full name me."

She blushes and I cringe. Only just have I realized how … sexual that sounds.

"I mean …" I try to rectify, my own cheeks crimson. "N-not that I like it too much, you know? I like it just the right amount." I stumble over the words and verbally crumble. "Oh God, I always put my foot in my mouth!" I exclaim dejectedly and she giggles.

"Its ok, Lil, everyone make mistakes," she sings the last line and then adds, "And I'll remember that for future reference." She ends with a little smirk, her cheeks hotter than ever and I look up approvingly. Flirty Miley is ridiculously cute.

If I knew that it would have taken a two minute conversation to get her to open up I would have done that at the very start. We're back to being … us.

"Seriously, what do you want to do?" Miley sighs and walks around her room with her arms folded.

"You're Hannah Montana," I mock. "And you have no clue what to do? At all?"

"Inside I'm just like you." She puts her hand over her heart sincerely and pretends to wipe an imaginary tear.

Just as I'm going to lift up a fluffy pillow and fling it at her, her dad shouts that dinners ready.

"Tough luck, Lilly." Miley smiles as she heads out of the door, almost colliding with Jackson as he barges out of his own room

Rolling my eyes with a grin I follow suit.

Yes, life is definitely getting better.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Sorry for the long wait until the update! I know ****it's not as long as the other chapters but I just wanted to get it out and give you guys something.**

**I apologize for any spelling errors.**

**Please tell me what you thought :) **


	9. My Miley

**I'm back at school now (sigh) and this is my exam year so updates probably won't be as frequent as I'd like but I'll try my hardest. The weekend is my best hope so please stick with me.**

**I want to thank all of my reviewers from the bottom of my heart, without you guys I wouldn't have the motivation to write at all. Just thanks so much :) **

………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Hey!" I smile softly from inside the back of my mom's Barbie car and lean over to open the door for Miley who is looking especially beautiful tonight dressed in a long, tight shirt and a shorter skirt revealing her smooth, tan legs (I'm a hormonal teenager; it's natural to glance at my girlfriend's assets while she's unawares.)

"Hey yourself." She slides carefully into the small car to keep her skirt dignified and I carry on looking at her with an irremovable smile. I'm so happy she's here. We're actually going to the bowling alley with Oliver before I spend the night at her house so I'm in high anticipation to set off and just … be with her.

"Will you stop staring at her, Lil? Honestly, you're making _me_ uncomfortable," my mom kindly cuts in from the driver's seat, readjusting the mirror now she's finished preening. "Are you girls ready? Miley, seatbelt?"

"It's on." She gives it a secure tug and my mom nods approvingly as she pulls out from the drive of Miley's house and we head off down the darkening streets, my cheeks a little red from my mom's earlier uncalled for comment. Sometimes she can be impossible. Of course I told her immediately about mine and Miley's relationship because I just knew she'd be so pleased and supportive, which is why she's the one driving us tonight. Before we left the house I did warn her not to embarrass me but I think the thin line between joke and humiliation is invisible to her.

"How's the family, Miles?" My mom then interrogates and I meaningfully kick the back of her seat. How can she be more casual with _my_ girlfriend than I am?

"They're great. Daddy's working on some new songs so he's got a lot of business coming in. That's where he's off to tonight, to meet with some people," Miley tells her informatively.

Every time she says daddy I just want to melt. It's just … ridiculously cute. It makes her seem vulnerable, but at the same time I want to give her a hug and hold her in my arms because she's so fragile and breakable. Like glass. Like the glass ornament I have in my room of the skyline of California.

"You'll all have to come around for dinner some time. Lord knows, we need an excuse to cook," my mom laughs and I cringe for her.

Miley, however, laughs with her and I don't see what's funny. Maybe it's a relative thing. If you're not related to them you can find an excuse to laugh at their stupid jokes. Finally, my mom leaves us to a few moments of peace after she's strolled through all of the parental questions (how has school been? Any more trouble from that Jenny girl? Miley, you have nice style; do you think this color shirt goes with my nails?)

"I'm glad we're doing this," I lean over and whisper and she turns her attention away from the window and smiles back.

"I am too."

"By the way you look really …" I falter at my loss to describe how pretty she looks but she just gives me an understanding look.

"You do too. That shirt really brings out your eyes."

Oh, my god, I'm blushing furiously, I can just feel myself overheating and she giggles slightly at my reaction.

"You're so cute," she remarks tenderly but so, so quietly and I'm almost startled at her new found confidence. She drives me crazy and I don't want to ever stop spinning out of control if this is how I'll always feel when she's here. Giddy and hyperactive.

"Those earrings are nice." I strike up some courage and lean over to move her silky, long, curly hair back a little so I can play with her silver loops. As I do she takes a quick intake of breath and my heart begins to palpitate in excitement.

"Stop flirting, Lilly! You're fogging up the windscreen." My mom finds the need to interrupt and I curse her mentally as Miley blushes.

"Mom?" I say sweetly once I've finished returning upright. "Can you not talk?"

"Its called being sociable, honey. Something you aren't."

Shaking my head, I mouth 'ignore her' her at Miley and set my hands in a praying motion and look up at the heavens (or the roof of the car since I can't see beyond it), hoping I'll make it through the rest of this car journey with minimal embarrassment. I should have begged Jackson to take us, or even Matt since he's not working today.

"Look at that assclown!" My mom suddenly shouts and Miley and I both jump. "What is he doing? Where did he get his license from!?" After muttering a string of impressive profanities about the guy in the car besides us, she takes a sharp turn and I end up crashing into Miley.

"Ouch," I say, my voice muffled by her side (she smells vaguely of a fruity scent and maybe a little bit of vanilla). Rubbing my head, I burn crimson and shakily sit up again. This car trip is the worst of my life. Thanks mom. Thanks a lot.

"Are you ok back there, Miley?" My mom asks quickly and turns around, lowering her sunglasses.

"I'm fine," she reassures her with a smile, undoubtedly just being polite since my nerves are in turmoil so hers must be too.

"I am in the car as well, mom," I say indignantly.

"Yes, honey, I know."

Miley chuckles and shakes her head. She looks over at me and I shrug with a warm smile. I have the desire to take hold of her hand. Just as my confidence is building and I lay my hand on the seat between us, pretending I'm just stretching, gradually working my way further to her unsuspecting hand – we pull to a stop.

"Here you are. Bowling alley. Tips are welcome," my mom jokes but I just ignore her.

Grumbling, I push open the car door and march around to Miley's side, opening the door for her and giving her a sweet smile while I glare my mom daggers.

"Good luck," she mouths before she drives off and I roll my eyes. There's no hope for her anymore.

"It's been ages since we've been bowling," Miley says as we walk through the building. "And it's so fun, too. We should come here more often."

"Anything you want," I sigh dreamily under my breath and we walk over to get our bowling shoes.

"What if the person who wore these last had feet fungus?" I grimace as I look over my pair of shoes for any severe signs. "That would be gross."

Amused, Miley stands up to test out her own rental shoes. "Thanks for putting that idea in my head."

I grin sheepishly. "My bad."

"Yes, it's always your bad."

"Hey!" I warn good-naturedly and stand up as well after lacing up my shoes cautiously. "You've had your fair share of bad moments!"

"At least I didn't wipe my nose on you in the car," she reasons with a little glint in her eye and I splutter inaudibly.

"Guys!" Oliver spots us and he's already stood by a lane with a bright pink bowling ball in his hand, beckoning for our company and humorlessly flexing his non existent muscles.

"We've been targeted," I nod over and Miley looks up from fiddling with something on her shoe that's making her uncomfortable. "Shall we go kick his butt at bowling?"

"Stand still a second." She hops over and grabs my arm, my hand covering hers on reflex as she balances on one foot to fix whatever is wrong with her shoe.

She's stood so close … she smells gorgeous … and that skirt …

"Lilly?"

"Huh?" My eyes must have been closed because they suddenly snap open. Miley points behind her at Oliver who looks impatient and I blush and walk in front.

In greeting Miley goes over and gives Oliver a hug (she's always been touchy-feely that way) and I offer him a fist punch instead.

"Are you guys ready to bowl?" he asks and cracks his fingers and rolls his shoulders in preparation.

"I call the pink ball!" Miley says from where she's stood and Oliver hurries over with a pout. "I want the pink ball!"

"It's just a ball!" I say and throw up my hands but they don't take any notice. "Do you want something to drink?" I try instead, hoping for a better response. Miley momentarily pauses in her argument to unclip her bag and pull out her purse but I quickly reach her and shake my head.

"I'll pay," I promise and guide her purse back in her bag. "My treat." I smile to seal the deal and she grins. "What?" I laugh. "I'm a traditional romantic."

She pretends to pick something out of my hair but she whispers in my ear so only I can hear, "I like it."

Shuddering, I gulp as she steps back. She looks surprised at her own boldness. Immediately she gets flustered and avoids my eye, rushing over to the computer screen so she can type our names in to get the game prepared. While reliving having her whisper in my ear, Oliver walks over and says he'll have a coke.

"Money?" I hold out my hand.

"You're paying for Miley's!" he exclaims and she looks up, still pink around the cheeks.

I grab his arm and he crumbles under my lethal grip. "Can't you be quiet?" I hiss and he looks fearfully back at me. "This isn't exactly a date for me and Miley but I'm still trying to make it seem a little like one. Since she's my girlfriend I think I'm good to buy her a drink and not you!"

Instead of crumbling further under my grip he straightens up a little and smiles.

"What?" I demand.

"It's hard to take you seriously when you get a love sick look on your face when you mention Miley is your girlfriend. You just practically swooned," he teases and I let him go while he shuffles around his pocket for some spare change.

"I'll be right back," I call over to Miley and she raises a hand in an affirmative gesture. As I'm walking to the little refreshments bar I look around for any signs of boys that might be interested in her. Luckily, I made sure Oliver understood not to let any male hit on her while I'm gone.

The place isn't that crowded so thankfully there's no queue at the little shack selling food and drinks. After ordering, I look around and tap my rental shoes on the floor, smoothing out my jeans and shirt, straightening out my wristband and necklace. Being accepted for who I am with Miley just makes me fall in love with her even more. Previously, she's said she loves my style and she wouldn't want me to ever change. I remember answering that I wouldn't if she wouldn't and we even shook on it. God, I love her … Maybe tonight when we get back to hers I can initiate our first kiss, although just thinking about it makes me feel all weak and nervous. What if I don't do it right? What if she thinks I'm a bad kisser? Before, I've kissed a lot of guys but she's different than a guy … she's Miley and she's flawless. I just want to make whatever we do together special.

"Hey." I break free from my stupor to see a girl stood at the counter with me, leaning back against it with her thumbs threaded through her belt loops, blowing a bubble with her gum. She looks overly confident and self assured. Even though people tell me I'm like that I've never been that way with Miley. She's shy and conservative and I respect that. She's changed me for the better.

"Hey," I acknowledge her, thinking she's just being sociable and polite.

"Who are you here with?" she moves onto ask me and looks at me from the corner of her eye.

"My gir- two best friends," I hastily correct at lightening speed, heart beating to the dozen at my almost slip-up. That was too close.

"Cool." She nods and then sticks out her hand. "I'm Tiffany."

Hesitantly shaking it, I reply, "Lilly."

"Cute name."

Feeling a tad uncomfortable, I turn my attention to the man making my drinks, wishing he would hurry up so I can get back to Miley.

"Do you come here often?" she carries on and I know she's someone I can't just block out and ignore. It's obvious she's used to being the centre of attention.

"Sometimes," I answer, not liking the way she's looking at me.

"My friends and I are having a game over there. Maybe _we_ could have a game sometime."

This is starting to feel like she's hitting on me and its awkward. I thank the man as he hands me my drinks. "Thanks, but I already have people to bowl with." And with that I offer her a forced smile and walk back to the lane, feeling her eyes burning into me the whole way. Why do I have the funny feeling it isn't just the back of my head she's looking at?

As I return, Miley is clutching the pink ball and Oliver looks disgruntled with the blue.

"Thanks, sweetie," Miley stands up and grabs her drink and takes a sip from the straw as Oliver does likewise. "Who was that girl??" she casually asks and she glances back over to the bar.

Is it my hopeful imagination or is she a little jealous? And she's been watching me while I've been gone!

"Just some random girl who said hi to me while I was being served." I shrug like it's no big deal.

"Oh." Miley frowns and chews on her straw.

"Miles." I touch her arm and her eyes flicker to the contact and then at the people around us. Unphased, I don't let go as this is easily perceived as platonic touching. Lowering my voice a considerable amount, I say, "I can't look at anyone but you. You're the only girl I want to look at."

Blushing, she coughs and meets my eyes with gratitude.

"Let's go kick Oliver's butt," I smile and squeeze her arm and she nods and laughs. "It shouldn't be so hard, especially with your cute pink ball."

"It better be lucky now I've fought for it." She walks over to the lane and lines up as the pins are set at the end.

Admiring the view, I lean against the computer screen and happily gaze at her. God, she's beautiful.

"Whipped," Oliver pretends to cough as he copies my stance and hides behind his hand. "Completely hooked."

I just grin at him. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. She's perfect."

Without any hint of a witty comeback he replies, "I'm so happy for you two. You both haven't been this happy in a long time."

"She's the one, Oliver." I look up at him. "I just know it."

"Who would've believed that you of all people could fall in love and want to spend your life with that person," he shakes his head incredulously but I know it's not an insult. In fact, I whole heartedly agree with him. It's taken me by surprise as well. But I can just feel that it's right. Other people may scoff and disagree but I know that what I feel for Miley is so powerful and meaningful. I've never felt like this for anyone.

"Your turn, Oliver," Miley beams as she joins us.

"Great shot," I hasten to compliment and give her my trademark smile, something that Oliver laughs at and mouths 'whipped' over Miley's shoulder. It's so true that I can't even find the breath to argue with him.

"Now I know why you want to go bowling all of the time," I comment as she takes a seat, exposing more of her creamy thigh. "You're just so good at it that you can beat me and Oliver with a landslide."

"You caught me." She holds her hands up. "But I'll let you win sometimes," she winks and I grab onto something solid to stop my knees from buckling.

The game goes on, the most entertaining part was when Oliver slipped on the lane and let out a girlish shriek, his blue ball tumbling into the lane next to ours.

Miley could barely breathe for laughing and to my unhidden delight she clung to me to stay upright since she was doubled over with tears streaming down her face. I sort of missed the whole thing since I was staring at her, but I did hear the echoing crash from when he lay sprawled out on the floor.

"We don't _only_ have to worry about fungus with these shoes," Miley giggles as she gets into position for her turn. "Maybe I need some support in case I fall over," she says a little louder, intentionally aiming it at Oliver who is nursing his ego by the seats.

As she takes her shot, I feel someone watching me and I subconsciously look to my right and Tiffany is looking at me with a smoothie in her hand. When she catches my glance she waves enthusiastically.

Thankfully, Miley comes back over and gives me a short hug since she's just scored a strike and Tiffany looks a little perplexed. Oliver notices our interaction and frowns.

"Is that the girl you were talking to?" He points and Miley snaps her head around to look at her, releasing me.

"Yeah," I mutter. "She really creeps me out. She just started talking to me, and asked if I'd like to bowl with her sometime."

"She was hitting on you?" Miley pales.

I smile at her reassuringly. "She's not my type, Miles. Only _one_ person is."

"Lilly, it's your turn." Oliver nudges me and I finish the last strike of the game.

Needless to say Miley beat us both by an incredible landslide, taking a moment to celebrate her victory by giving a whole new rendition of a Hannah dance move. Then, we all waited in the main area with our own shoes for my mom to pick us back up. (oh joy).

Later that night I was at Miley's in her room, flipping through a magazine, focusing on Hannah Montana longer than necessary. Today has been an experience. Miley is slowly becoming more confident with me. She'll take my hand and give me hugs. She even called me _sweetie _in public.

"It's been fun today," Miley comments and stands before me. "Thanks for making me do this; I had a great time with you ... you and Oliver."

"But me mostly right?" I smirk and shuffle off of her bed.

"Of course."

We're both standing and my heart leaps into my throat painfully. Should I … Does she want me to …Is she ready to… "Miles?" I utter and search her eyes, edging closer so we're hardly a few inches apart. She doesn't say anything but she slowly, gradually leans in and I likewise step closer. Before I can gather a technique together she stops, her lips close to mine. I feel her breathe against me and I feel something like electricity shoot up and down my body. After checking her eyes for the last time, I gently press my lips to hers.

We don't move for a few moments, all is still, but then I carefully wrap my arms around her waist, while she hesitantly and loosely wraps hers around my neck. We break apart slightly, but this time I tilt my head and push my lips against hers once more. As I move my lips she stands still almost as in a state of shock but after the third time my mouth moves against hers she returns the kiss softly, eyes fluttering shut, her arms becoming more secure around my neck.

Little sparks erupt inside of me, my heart is pounding so hard I think she can feel it and my stomach is clenching. I don't want to stop kissing her, not ever. These new waves of euphoria crash through my body and I think I'm flying. Below I can see all of the judgmental people who don't understand, I see our school all grey and forlorn, I see my dad looking up at me with a disappointed look on his aging face but I'm with Miley and none of that can ever matter anymore. Not when her lips are pressed so beautifully against my own. Not when we're connecting on a new emotional level.

Finally, she gently pulls away and I open my eyes to see her eyes alight and dancing. Entrancing, captivating, magical … This is where I need to be. This is what I always need to feel.

Before she can speak I entwine our fingers and hold them against my rapidly beating heart. "This only happens when I'm with you," I whisper and she engulfs me in a tight embrace.

My Miley.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

**It's strange but when I write in first person my standard of writing just slips :P**

**I think this is the longest chapter yet and probably the quickest I've updated so I hope you guys like it! **

**Please comment :) Tell me what you loved, what you didn't like so much, ideas, anything. **

**Everyone's reviews are appreciated! **


	10. Smitten

I'm smitten. Utterly smitten with her. Some lesser beings may call it an unhealthy infatuation that can lead to no good but I don't care for condescending allusions from outside judgments anymore. What's the point? It causes anguish and despair of the harshest kind, to listen to people who know so little about what you're going through. Selfish and inconsiderate they are. But that's our society. Just another fruitless attempt at mindless brainwashing into things that aren't even mildly _wrong_. That's not going to change. It's important to dissipate negativity since relationships are arduous and trialing enough without unknowing opinions cutting through the stability like a vehement dagger with cruel intentions.

Once upon a time it scared me to be targeted, to be avoided and looked down upon but I got so sick of hiding, of being terrified of accepting myself when all that kept running through my head was what others would think of me if I was different. Yet what everyone thinks is normal just isn't... Plain and simple.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting with glassy-eyes in World History class, silently muttering curses over such a tedious and pointless lesson while tapping my pen annoyingly on my wooden desk. Throughout I've been fantasizing about my girlfriend. It's inappropriate and fills me with guilt but I can't help myself when the temptation is alluring and enticing me into dreams I shouldn't be having, not when my love is pure and innocent and completely untainted. I'm bad, so bad. Someone stop me... Turn me off, block my images…

I'm still a teenager with hormones after all.

Besides me sits the beautiful girl in question. She's bent over a pink notepad, doodling in her own boredom, and I'm so nosy I sideways glance at her scribbles in hope of making them out. Needless to say I can't see and my curiosity grows. Her sweet scented hair lies in curls today, cascading down her back and framing her face nicely, along with hip-hugging jeans that accentuate her wonderful figure... Damn her sex appeal.

Amber and Ashley are currently filing their nails, Jake Ryan is flattening his hair stereotypically while gazing lovingly at his reflection in the compact mirror, Dandruff Danny is flaking up his desk, and Oliver is staring gormlessly at his chipped nail. Only Miley is active, her wrist is moving in rhythm with whatever she's drawing. Looking up, she catches my eye and shyly smiles when she sees me watching her with my full undivided attention.

I smile back, my heart skipping a beat. Still she holds me captivated just like the second I first realized I was in love with her, how long ago it seems, how tiresome the beginning of our journey was. The waiting, the denying, the gradual acceptance, but something good came of it. And I'm glad. Over time my feelings are escalating, they're growing more powerful and quaint. It's like the lyrics to a song, the words just keep adding to the page.

"What are you writing?" I whisper boldly, my intuitive side winning out over respecting her privacy. "Or drawing?"

"Nothing." Miley puts down her pen and blushes. "It's nothing."

Frowning comically, I motion for her to hand me her notepad but she quickly shakes her head and rests her arms over the closed book. Now she's made me really want to see.

"Why?" I mouth cheekily.

She just shrugs. "You ask too many questions."

"Okay, fine." I pretend to sigh. "Don't expect me to come crawling back after the way you mistreated me."

Miley can't prevent a smile, even though she's trying to make it look like she's interested in what the teacher is babbling. Believe me, no one is listening to him drone on in a monotonous voice, his spear thwacking the board. "You're such a drama queen, Lilly."

I love how my name sounds coming from her perfect lips, coated with that husky southern accent that I adore so much. "I'm dramatic because you're mean." I pout.

"Oh please." She stifles a musical laugh. "I'm mean because you're dramatic."

My eyebrow cocks up. "Then I'm going to be flirty and see what your reaction is then." Thankfully she's not focusing on my legs because they just twitched nervously under the desk.

After checking the vicinity carefully, Miley looks down at her closed notepad with even redder cheeks; she gets so embarrassed and it's so cute. "We'll see."

"I'm holding you to that," I warn good-naturedly and she opens her mouth as if to retaliate but closes it abruptly when the nerve leaves her. That and the fact the teacher just glared at us. Whereas I'm becoming more confident in the way I act and the things I say, I think she's becoming more refined and apprehensive even though I keep telling her to be calm and natural with me. Overall nothing has changed too drastically except that we're in love and I'm more willing to express that level of emotion on a physical level. Hand brushes, gentle kisses, bolder compliments.

Before I have the opportunity to sneak another peak at her doodles the bell rings and the entire class stampedes to the door, behind the teacher who bolts out first with his cane leading the way. Snorting, I thrust my unused books into my bag and sling it over my shoulder, smirking as Oliver trips over the foot I conveniently stick out since his head is still in the clouds.

"I'll get you for that!"

"Sure you will!" I say cheerfully as Miley laughs and Oliver grumbles and marches out, leaving us alone.

I walk over to her with a bounce in my step as opposed to dragging my feet like usual. "Hey," I smile softly. It's so stupid but I've missed her.

"Hey yourself." She grabs my hand and runs her thumb over the palm gently, the tingles predictably appearing. Behind us the door to the classroom clangs shut as some moronic Neanderthal body slams into it with a wild howl. Turning our attention to the ruckus, we simultaneously sigh and Miley giggles at our synchronized action. I feel my hand being dropped and I regret that she's making her way to the door, to lunch, away from me.

No. I want her to stay here in our private moment for a little while longer. Just another minute to enjoy her company alone. School is torturous in the sense of having her there yet being restricted in what I can get away with. When we're fully alone I can build up courage, do small things without a second thought. Here I overanalyze the tiniest thing.

"Miley?" Deciding to make her stay was a spur of the moment. It's selfish but I want her to myself. I want her to kiss me.

She turns around in question. "Yeah?" Not really surprised, she walks back over. "Lilly?"

After checking we're completely alone I pull her to me with ferocity I never knew I possessed, and I watch her eyes flicker from shock with a glint of … lust? Naturally she opens her mouth to say something, like she always does, but this time I take control and clamp my mouth to hers with this urgency, this need to taste her. Without pulling away, I let my hands rest on her hips as she falls back a little into a desk, her arms going out behind her to hoist herself up. I like being the demanding one. I continue to kiss her only it's not like our previous short-lived kisses; this is filled with passion and desire. All day I've been thinking about how amazing she is, how lucky I am and I've finally reached my limit. Quickly and effectively I tear my lips away for a split second before tilting my head and recapturing her lips with a slight moan. This is indescribable. What she does to me is - is - Before I can ponder she pulls away just as I was about to be brave and slide my tongue against hers but my eyes snap open at no longer feeling fulfilled.

"What was that? You just …"

"Kissed you?" I offer and keep my hands locked on her hips. She's not trying to move, it looks like she's contemplating. "Nobody saw, Miles, we're alone. I made sure."

She touches her lips in a dazed state. "You haven't kissed me like that before."

Feeling confident, I ask, "Do you like it?"

The pink tinge on her cheeks darkens. "We're in school, Lilly …"

"So?" I'm getting sick of hiding. Isn't it time we were going somewhere? Yes, we're moving slow but this is snail pace and I can't help but think that we'll never get anywhere.

"Anyone could walk in! It's too dangerous!" She pulls herself away completely and a sad frown overtakes her previous happy features. "I thought we were on the same page about this."

I become frustrated. "Do you know how hard it is!" I exclaim as my dam bursts. "To see you and want you but not be able to _really_ have you! At school it's like _we_ don't exist. Out of school you're everything, Miles, you're that perfect and loving girlfriend who I can't stop thinking about but then we're at school I can't even tap your shoulder without you being jumpy and paranoid! Miles, this is... it's ... hard." I squeeze my fists together remorsefully but I can't stop, its impossible now the stream is fast flowing. "It shouldn't be this hard. I know we don't want people to know, and I respect that, I honor that, I understand so much where you're coming from but it hurts when you act like I'm not there! Like I'm not there! You see me in the corridor and you look straight through me! We watch a movie in your room and you look at me like I'm the only person in your entire world! It just... hurts…It hurts."

Tears line her pretty blue eyes and overwhelming guilt breaks a barrier inside. The urge to engulf her in a tight embrace and whisper condolences into her ear while taking back everything I said almost becomes automatic but I'm frozen to my spot. My legs won't allow me to move. It hurts even more to know I'm the one who has made her cry, and I hate myself for being weak and spilling my guts out over the fact she didn't participate in a kiss. Not everyone in the damn world is like me, not everyone wants to move at the same pace I do. The one thing I said to her! I said I'd fucking be patient, I'd never pressure her and wait until whatever she felt ready for.

"I-I never knew, Lilly. I-I'm so s-sorry that I make you hurt. I-I don't even realize."

"Oh, Miles." My lip trembles and I bit it painfully as she scuffs her foot. "Miley? Will you look at me please?" She obeys and I hold out my hand which she takes. "I'm sorry," I say glumly "For being such a jackass. We're taking this at your pace and I shouldn't be so demanding. I have you, don't I? And that's enough. It'll always be enough."

"It won't." She violently shakes her head as tears trip down her face. "Eventually it's not going to be enough. Soon you'll be bored of waiting for me to be ready and you'll find someone else. Someone like Tiffany!"

"No!" I yell and grab her by both arms to roughly she shakes and whimpers. Defiantly, I pierce her watery eyes with all the reassurance I can muster. "Don't you EVER worry about that, you hear me? Ever. There's a million Tiffany's in the world, there's a million Jenny's but there's only one of you. I'd never find another girl attractive. You're my …one." My throat constricts as I finish and my hands shake as I grasp her.

Miley's timid smile breaks the tension. "You think I'm your one?"

"I've never felt like this for anyone else, Miles. Heck, I didn't even know it was possible to."

"From the very second I knew that I liked you I always thought that you'd be the one who wouldn't open up about your feelings," she sniffs and laughs as I smile along. "I like this soft side of you."

Without another word she leans in and pecks me on the lips delicately, her hand cupping my face as I stroke her hair and lick my lips to revel in the taste of her lip-gloss.

"Strawberry is my favorite," I tell her informatively while staring at her lips.

"Well, I'll have to keep that in mind."

I smirk and entangle my fingers in the ends of her long, satiny hair in delight. "That you will." But then I release her no matter how much I don't want to. To my surprise however, she hesitates briefly before grabbing my shirt collar and slamming our mouths together.

What the heck is this? This is not my sweet, innocent, angelic Miley trying to thrust her tongue down my throat; this is my erotic dream version who I like in theory but not in practice. My Miley is soft and gentle, every movement is careful and precise, she's so intricate and I love that about her. I love how sweet she is. Then I feel her arms wrap around my neck as mine hang limp by my side. Gasping, I feel her tongue massage mine. This isn't Miley … She's not supposed to be this rough and commanding. I enjoy making the moves; I like to initiate our make-out because she's too shy to. Oh, my god, I've created a monster.

"Miles?" I push her away hastily, both of us breathless. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" she demands and leans in again but I push her away by both shoulders this time and dodge her mouth, something I never thought I'd do.

"You don't want this. Don't do this because of what you think I want."

"But, Lilly!" She sighs in exasperation and I can't blame her. Maybe she thought that because I said she doesn't see me at school she suddenly needs to be allover me in a deserted classroom. "I can't win with you!"

"Miley, I like how you already are with me! I love the shy, sweet, sensitive you! Stop acting so out of character, you don't want to do it and I don't want you to. Please, Miles, let's just go back to us. Let's pretend today never happened, okay?" I beg, feeling lightheaded and woozy from all of these events.

"Okay." Miley runs her fingers through her hair numbly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were being perfect, like always." I assure her and pick up her bag for her. "You wanted to make me happy."

"Are you happy?"

"Whenever I'm with you, I'm always happy. I promise. Just don't think you need to jump me within school just because we had this talk."

She gives a dry chuckle. "Got it." She pauses awkwardly. "Well, that was embarrassing."

"But it was kinda nice ...Oh, c'mon." I roll my eyes and guide her to the door by standing behind and marching her through the door with both hands on her shoulders, suppressing a smile.

Later that night I'm sat Indian style on my bed, my hair damp and fresh smelling from the shower and my pajamas baggy and long. Technically I should be trying to solve algebra equations but they're boring and I'm unwilling to try. Earlier I sat down with take-away pizza with my mom while we yelled at American Idol on TV (half yelling, I was texting Miley and my mom was throwing popcorn at me and calling me whipped), after that I actually held a conversation with my brother over some new drink he's planning on suggesting to his boss at the café he works at and now I'm wishing it was morning again just so I can see Miley in person. She's the last thing I think about before I go to the bed and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Unfortunately she was unavailable for social activities after school because of her celebrity schedule but she sounded genuinely upset about not being able to see me, and even more so that Lola Luftnagle won't be needed. Again, I miss her something terrible.

A sudden knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. It's a monotonous stiff knock, one guess who it belongs to.

"Who is it?" I ask anyway to prolong it opening.

My dad strides in, still dressed in a suit, even still in his expensive shoes and stands before me with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I ask rudely. He has no business being here, invading my space with his unwanted presence.

"Lillian." He sighs and I cringe. I hate my full name as he very well knows. "I want a civil chat with you. No smart quips of sarcasm are necessary. I don't care for being spoken to like a child."

Oh, great. What does he want? To bore me to death with a school related lecture? To set me up with some eligible bachelor who's the heir to a throne? "What do you want?" I grumble despondently.

"My own daughter to look at me would be nice," he spitefully comments and I roll my eyes before facing him. "That's better. Now, there's something I feel obligated to tell you. Its about someone in our family, they have disgraced our name with their sinful acts and I feel like you should be told about it."

This can't mean joy and happiness. When my dad feels obligated to tell me something it means I don't care for what he has to say. His idea of wrong is pathetic. All of his ideas are so medieval and strange. Maybe if he'd deflate his head he might see how ridiculous he's being. Jesus, what did my mom ever see in him?

"Go on."

He remains standing up in a dull, executive manner. "Your cousin Toby has recently announced he's gay."

A smile spreads across my face. Good for him. Not unexpected because the last time he visited he begged me to go shopping with him and checked out the male assistant. But then I frown. Sinful act? Disgraced our name? What is my dad talking about here?

"It's sick." My dad is stony-faced and grimacing with distaste. "It's deceitful and its wrong and I want you to know that about him because you deserve to know what types of people are living out there, what one of our own is doing."

Silence.

"Fuck you," I mumble before storming out of the door to his optimum surprise. Indeed he doesn't have the time to spin around and shout at me to get back there and apologize for my profane obscenity. Taking the stairs two at a time, I wrench open the front door, still clad in pajamas with my hair still damp and let the cold night envelope me with a feeling of painful relief.

No. No! It's not wrong, it's not deceitful and it's not disgracing anything or anyone! My own father would condemn me to hell for falling in love! My own flesh and blood! Angry tears burn my eyes and I pick up a jagged stone from the sidewalk in a moment of insanity. He's wrong! He's wrong! In a momentarily state of weakness I hold out my wrists but choke and let it fall from my hands to the ground, wringing my empty hands desperately as I tear down the streets. Oh. God. Oh, God. What am I doing? My reckless wandering, my instinctive pacing leads me to somewhere familiar, a haven of some sorts. Trembling from the cold and my receding anger, I slowly knock on the door of the house where I know I'll be safe. Here I know I have people who care for me, who won't turn me away.

Mr. Stewart opens the door with wide eyes and lets me step over the threshold. "What in Sam heck, Lilly!" He takes in my shivering form before striding over to the stairs and bellowing for Miley to get her butt down here. "I'll get you a coat of some sort." Mr. Stewart, no questions asked, goes to find me some warm clothing while I stand, vulnerable and breakable in their living room.

"What happened to you!" Miley's shrill, panicky voice washes over me like warmth.

"I hate my dad," I say shortly as she holds me tightly in her comforting arms, stroking my back lovingly while I bury my head into her neck. In her arms I know I'm safe. She doesn't care I'm moist and icy; she clings to me and I to her, swallowing a sob. Knowing Miley, she'll ask more questions, so I quickly say, "I don't want to talk about it right now, Miles."

"Okay. Anything you want."

Mr. Stewart returns with a blanket and Miley drapes it around my shoulders while tucking some strands of hair behind my ears. I shiver again but not from the cold this time. Both Stewarts survey me critically while Miley rubs my arms up and down with the blanket.

"I'll take you upstairs. Are you sleeping?"

I look at one to the other weakly. "If that's okay."

"Of course." Miley jumps in and Mr. Stewart nods. Maybe he thinks it best to not say anything. He's respectful and admirable that way. "Daddy?" Miley rounds on him in a plea, but of course she doesn't even need to ask.

"You girls know where I am." He smiles at me sorrowfully and I give him a grateful smile back as Miley drags me impatiently into her room and searches through her drawers for something for me to wear.

I watch her adoringly. She's always been there, my rock, my everything. What would I do without her?

"Get changed," she instructs and points to the bathroom, for once being bossy and taking charge but not like she did in the classroom earlier. This is a panicky type of controlling, she's scared for me. Obeying, I come out five minutes later in dry clothing. The pants and long sleeved shirt smell like her.

"These smell like you." I tentatively sit on the end of her bed and smell my shirt collar. Even under the circumstances she turns a darker shade.

"Lilly, do you want to talk about what happened?" She sits beside me, decked out in similar pajamas with her hair as long and curly as ever. "We can talk for as long as you want to."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine for tonight. I just needed to get away. My mom'll know where I am, and my dad probably won't care so it's fine. All is fine. My cousin Toby won't be fine and when my dad finds out about me he won't be fine but as for me right now! I'm fine." To me I sound high pitched and hysterical but Miley nods understandingly. God, I love her so much. What I need more than ever is stability, I want her to hold me and protect me like I vowed to do for her. Please just... just … Miley, just love me like it's the last time you'll ever do so.

Miley rubs my arm gently. "Lilly …"

"Just ... Just … lay with me?" I implore quietly, meeting her soul searching gaze.

"What?"

I motion to the bed. "Lay with me. Please."

"Yeah. Sure. Anything you want." She lets me get comfy before lying down, facing me. We lay close together but not quite toughing, I think she's nervous and this is _my _Miley now. My sweet Miley.

"You're so beautiful," I murmur sheepishly and yawn.

She giggles. "Even when you're half-dead you're still that same old flirt."

"You know me." I boldly snuggle in closer and wrap an arm around her small waist securely. "Is this okay?"

Miley shuffles closer. "You don't even need to ask that, Lil."

Slowly but surely I come in even closer to her and she inhales a quick breath as I wrap one of my legs around her. "Sorry," I apologize in embarrassment and try to go back to where we were but she shakes her head and squeezes me.

"Never be sorry. I told you it was fine."

Fine. Fine. We'll all be fine one day. I watch as she slowly drifts into a peaceful slumber, it makes my heart race and my stomach swoop to hold her so near to me, pressed against my heart where she affects me the most. For all I can care my dad doesn't exist, not when I have her. She's my family. I stuff one hand under the pillow because I like to do so when I sleep but to my surprise before I can close my eyes and subject to a slumber, my hand catches something sharp and jagged. So not to wake her I silently feel around under the pillow before pulling out a notepad, the very same one Miley was writing in today. With a quick glance at her snoozing features, my curiosity wins once again and I find myself flipping through it. My eyes flicker over writing that must be lyrics but eventually I land on a page that she must have been working on today. My mouth is dry and my pulse is frantic.

In scribbles and fancy artwork are the words 'I Love Lilly Truscott' accompanied with shaded hearts and detailed calligraphy. Tears prick my eyes. When did I become so weak?

Just when I think I've fallen for her the deepest I possibly could she goes and does something that creates a whole new sensation of falling. Something else so perfect.

I kiss her nose with a smile and put the book back under my pillow, her engraved words filling me whole.

I love Lilly Truscott.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Yes, I'm a horrible person for leaving you waiting but I had momentarily loss of spark for this story. I'm not too thrilled with this chapter because I feel the inspiration behind it wasn't there, but nonetheless I tried to give you guys something.**** Anything. **

**Thank-you for sticking by me, your reviews mean everything.**

**I've been writing so many Liley stories lately to try and get through my writers block and each I discard with disdain because I can't continue it after a couple of chapters. Oh well, I'll try my hardest to shape up some of the Liley's I have been writing, they're halfway decent I guess. **

**As for this story, bear with me, it may take a while for an update and any suggestions are welcome, so please be patient. :)**

**Love you guys!!!**


	11. Smiles

"I feel like crap!" I openly declare the next morning as I grasp my girlfriend tightly and bury myself into her side lovingly, her cute pajama shirt clutched in my hands as I refuse to let her move after just coming back in the room after sneaking out. I had felt her disentangle herself from my grip and tip-toe downstairs. "Seriously, just leave me here to die. On my gravestone have it say 'death by laziness' and then spend your life giving speeches to little kids on what not to do to end up like me. Rotting in a coffin. Becoming lonely worm food."

Miley taps me on my stomach. "Stop being such a drama queen and get your lazy butt out of bed! You know, I think my dad made us pancakes. He seems to think you being here is a special occasion."

"Pancakes?" My ears prick up at the mention of food, but I act nonchalant.

"I know you want some, Lil. Your eyes practically made me blind with the way they lit up. You should consider being the new decoration at Rockefeller centre at Christmas."

"As long as you be Santa," I smirk and breathe out into her neck, smirking wider as she shudders.

"Oh, just so you can sit in my lap?"

I grin against her skin, inhaling her unique scent. "And maybe more."

"Stop being such a perv!"

"Okay, I'll have that on my grave stone instead. 'Death by perving on her girlfriend'."

Miley considers this. "That could work. I'd even write a song."

I grin and play with her luscious hair contentedly. "How would it go?"

"Lilly was a lazy slouch with hair as white as snow. When she tried to climb up the stairs she fell and splat like dough."

I crack up laughing and clasp a hand over my mouth before I drool all over her. Since I'm laid on her she can feel me shaking in laughter and giggles as well so before we know it we're both on the bed in hysterics. I have never laughed so much in life.

Wiping a tear from my eye, I finally sit up and grin down at her, playing with the drawstrings on her pajamas pants. "That's the making of a masterpiece."

"I'm sensing a Hannah classic." Her eyes light up and I melt for the first time that day.

"So, about those pancakes ..." I rub my stomach, getting back on subject.

"I knew you wanted some!" she teases and grabs my hand to haul me up. Before we jog down to the kitchen however, I engulf her into a tight hug and whisper a husky thank-you into her ear.

Mr. Stewart is sat drinking coffee and reading the morning paper on the deck but when we enter he looks up and wishes me good morning.

"I expect to see all of those pancakes gone when I come in, Lilly."

I raise a hand in acknowledgment as Miley pours some orange juice from the jug on the counter.

"Don't worry about a thing, Mr. S!"

Efficiently, I pile some chocolate syrup all over my pancakes while Miley watches incredulously. I must look like a total pig but I'm starving and still exhausted, although I slept like baby with Miley wrapped around me. Still, something needs to keep my energy levels up.

"What?" I ask with my mouth full.

She picks up the bottle, leans on the counter and scans the ingredients. "Do you know how many calories are in this?"

"Did you know that even if you diet and eat healthy you die anyway?"

Miley gives me a frown. "You have an answer for everything. It's so frustrating."

I know how to get her on my good side. "I heart you Miley Stewart." I also draw a heart in the air with my fingers and beam happily. Momentarily her eyes go wide and she looks at her dad but he's not listening. Finally loosening up she blows me a kiss and I catch it, pretending to stuff it in my mouth along with another mouthful of breakfast.

"I hope you know I'm not kissing you today. You have chocolate all over your mouth, you're worse than Jackson!"

I wave the fork at her and swallow, adopting a sing-song tone. "You want to kiss me! You want to hug me!"

"I want to get away from you." The pleasant smile on her face makes me melt for the second time that morning. Clearing my throat while she looks on in bemusement, we both don't hear Mr. Stewart walk back inside and throw the paper on the couch. Its only when Miley grabs a fork from the drawer and starts to share my pancakes is when I notice he's staring at me knowingly.

Under his wary gaze I feel intimidated. But then I'm nervous. Does he know? We've never actually talked about coming out to her dad but I just instinctively know he'll be supportive when we do. Miley is his baby girl, his pride and joy, the apple of his eye. I'm jealous of their relationship, he's overprotective and loving, whereas my dad is gruff and insensitive. I don't want to think about him today, if I do I'll get angry and embark on a rampage. For all our sanity its better if I remain with Miley.

"Stop giving Lilly a creepy stare." Miley breaks the silence and motions for her dad to go away.

Mr. Stewart chuckles and pours himself some orange juice. "You girls look radiant today."

We both blush and I duck my head at the sly comment.

"Those pancakes good, Lilly?"

I nod enthusiastically, glad we've moved on, and he winks like he always does when I enjoy his food. "They've got plenty of sugar in 'em, something you'll be needing I assume to keep up your energy levels."

The bit of pancake suddenly lodges in my throat. Spluttering, I manage, "What?"

"Daddy!" Miley exclaims, tearing her eyes away from looking at the fridge magnets. "What are you trying to say?"

"Darlin' you must think I'm denser than Uncle Earl."

Nervously, Miley plays with her fork and twiddles it over and over in her palms, biting her lip, unknowing what to do or say in this circumstance. I think I should say something but I'm clueless to what.

"I wasn't gonna say nuthin and leave you to tell me in your own time but I'm an impatient man when it comes to my daughter and I'm going to throw my suspicions out there right now. Miley, I approve."

Now I really do choke on my pancakes. Miley knocks over her orange juice and squeaks.

"Ya'll are looking at me like I'm crazy!" Mr. Stewart laughs and puts his hand on the back of my stool. "I love you two girls. Its like Lilly's really family now."

"How did- how did- when did-" Miley can't get her words out and I can't blame the poor girl. We're both open mouthed and flabbergasted for this was so unexpected and out there. I need a fan, I need a freakin' water spray, I need someone to slap me some sense.

"When? Miles, I know these things. It's my prerogative to pick up the small things. I just so happened to notice what was going off between you and Lilly even though you've been so discreet it's been hard to find evidence."

"Haha." I say stupidly. Why would I laugh at a time like this? At times _I_ don't even understand me.

He claps his hands together and looks at Miley fondly. "Miles?"

"Daddy, I'm – I'm ... shocked that you – you ... _know_."

"Me too," I pipe up.

"Does anyone else know?" Mr. Stewart inquires, turning serious for a second.

"Oliver does. My mom, too." I count off on my fingers even though its not a hard number to reel. It's just to have something to do with my hands.

"Would your mom mind if I have a word with her, Lil?"

Eagerly, I give him approval. He's making the effort. Exactly the boost in which Miley needs.

"As long as you bake her some of your famous cookies. She'll be more than willing then." I smile.

Everything's suddenly okay. Mr. Stewart accepts. Its sort of more official now he knows, the more people that get involved the more serious our relationships becomes. Miley looks like she's welling up at her dad's words and I feel lightheaded with relief. I know it's a big weight off Miley's shoulder, she's standing taller now.

We catch eyes and she grins. Oh, that smile … I space out whenever she does it, I just can't think. It's beautiful. She's beautiful. As the warm feelings envelope my body I wonder whether I should tell her that I saw her private diary if that's what it was. I wonder if she'll tell me she loves me someday soon. Now that her dad is aware of our blossoming romance maybe she'll be more confident.

I'm delighted. This was the best thing that could have happened. Last night I lost myself within a bad experience but now it seems like anything is possible. Cheesy as it seems I feel inspired and motivated. Our relationship will last years, if not forever. I'm willing to make sure of it.

Yes, we're a same sex couple but even different sex couples still face shit for different reasons. It's nice to know we're not doing this alone. And then it hits me. Maybe I should get in contact with some other couple going through the same thing as us. It'll reassure Miley a little more and it'll be refreshing to exchange some stories. Yes, I'll browse the internet for what I need and actually see whether a face-to-face meeting is worth it. I love where I'm at with Miley right now, I really do. I just want to be her rock; I want to hold her hand through these phases. I just think listening to people like us will help her development, mine too.

"What's on the agenda for you girls today?"

I haven't planned today; I just wanted to survive last night. "Erm … Miles?"

"Erm ... Lilly?" She shrugs and bites into an apple. "You're the boss."

"That's not what you said last night," I joke but then I remember my audience and shrink inside my clothes.

Once again Miley is beetroot. "She's joking …"

"Teenagers." Mr. Stewart shakes his head with a smile twitching his lips and grabs a banana before heading upstairs to leave us to it.

"Sorry!" I quickly apologize and I knock the chocolate sauce over. "Sorry again!"

"You have a big mouth." Miley's blush recedes and she fiddles with a saltshaker on the counter after seeing the funny side of the situation.

"You'd know," I say but then gasp incredulously. "I have a disease! Shut me up!"

"With my lips?" she says sarcastically as though mimicking something I would say.

"Well." I purse my lips expectantly with one eyebrow raised. "I wouldn't say no to that."

"You have chocolate on your lips." She reminds me as an excuse.

I lean over and kiss her. "Now you do." I smirk as she licks her lips on reflex. "Enjoy that?"

"Duh, it's chocolate!"

"I was talking about the kiss …" I feign insult. "Just for being ignorant you can have another." I lean over again and lick her lips with my tongue. To my surprise she opens her mouth and allows her tongue to gently entwine with mine. I shuffle closer and make sure she doesn't pull away by holding one hand to the back of her head while hers rest on my thighs since she's stood up and I'm sat on a kitchen stool.

"I know I said Lilly is family now but seeing this is not my main priority. How bout ya'll have a no lip locking policy?"

Mr. Stewart's voice breaks our kiss and Miley flinches and pulls away, biting her lip. Slowly my hand retracts from the back of her head and I giggle nervously.

"My bad …" I mutter and give my best angelic face.

"Next time I'll remember my drink." Mr. Stewart smiles, grabbing his glass before walking back over to the stairs. "Oh, and Miles, you have chocolate on your lips."

"Oh great." Miley wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and I snicker. "I'm just not kissing you ever again."

"Miley! Don't be impulsive!" I leap off the stool and almost fall in my haste to get to her. My clumsy antics are to her amusement because she can't keep a straight face as I fall to the ground and cling onto her legs. "I'm not letting go until you take that back."

"Never." She tries to shake me off but I just hug her legs tighter.

"Lilly, I'm still in my pajama pants and they're really loose after you almost broke the drawstring with your fiddling so don't tug on them!"

I smile innocently. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Remember what's going to be printed on your future – or early depending on if I kill you – grave stone?" she reminds me ever so kindly. I just snigger at her illusions.

I then draw a fake halo around my head. "No promises." Just to tease her I grasp a handful of her pants and pull then like a centimeter to which she stumbles backwards in surprise and makes me accidentally grab even more material. Thankfully … well, to her … I lose my grip and she clashes into the wall. I stand up and stumble over.

"I'm sorry." I pout irresistibly. "I didn't actually mean to … "

"I know." She kisses my forehead tenderly. "You're cute. I can forgive you."

"Amen to that, sister!" I pretend to pray and she nudges me and adorably laughs.

"Let's go get changed and watch a movie or something," she suggests.

"Sure, cause we never do that." I see her begin to protest so I place my hands firmly on her hips and she quiets down. "I'm joking, Miles."

She rubs my arm and smiles goofily. "I know."

"In that case, lead the way cap'n." I stand back and salute as she rolls her eyes and takes the lead with a soldier march. "Left, right, left, right," I instruct in a deep voice, following her up the stairs. She almost trips on one and just as I'm about to point and tease I trip up the same step so the tables once again turn.

"I'm doing too much falling today," I curse as we reach the landing. Miley checks around the walls like James Bond, her hands positioned into a gun motion while I whine at my misfortune.

However, at my words she stands upright and makes me freeze. "I guess I just made you trip."

The duel meaning gets me smiling and I can't deny because that would be lying.

………………………………………………………………………………….

**Again, sorry for my absence. I have had such a sore throat these past few days; I'm wheezing and croaking like a good un'. I was sucking on soothers in media and my teacher (who is hilarious) just went and swooped in, stealing two of them. I was like those two soothers were the ones that could've healed me and now I'll never know. So yeah, I'll still be spluttering for a few days longer I assume lol.****I know I'm a little late in mentioning but England had an earthquake! Which I slept through! Lol.**

**I just wanna say thank-you sooooo much for all of your reviews, I can't thank you enough! Also, keep up with writing those Liley's! I've been reading some awesome ones lately. **

**This chapter was fluffier but at least Robbie Ray knows now :) **


	12. Exploitation

**Big thank-you to hermione032192 who leaves the best reviews, Kurrent who I'm honoured is just reading my story, Greyiron-93 who writes awesome Liley stories herself, Stessa, theshadowhisperer, Truscott, Talk2Someone, ThreeDollarBill, -little clip-, Lizdacious who writes awesome Liley as well, oh one, J.S Jamesbrooke, rose1223, Everhart13, The Maltese Knight, and every single other reviewer I haven't mentioned but love just as much! Thank you guys soooooooooo much! You guys have great Liley yourselves :)**

**Just remember that this story is M, there's some pretty bad language in this chapter. **

…………………………………………………………………………………………

"Lilly?"

I minimize the website I'm on and close my laptop, spinning around on my swivel chair as my mom hovers by my doorway, Holly tucked under one arm, decked out in stylish attire for lounging around the house. Even when she doesn't try she's glamorous, a gene I haven't inherited.

"Since when do you knock?"

"Since I witnessed that tongue of yours halfway down your girlfriend's throat," she responds cleverly, raising an eyebrow as she perches daintily on the edge of my unmade bed.

I blush, the incident still raw in my mind. A few days ago Miley and I were completing homework in my room while Matt and my dad were at work. My mom was believed to be out maxing her credit card to the limit at the expensive stores when I gathered the guts to snake an arm around Miley's waist, placing the other on her lower back when the temptation got too much to ignore. In return she wrapped both arms around my neck with new found confidence and deepened the kiss that I had enthusiastically initiated. Our kisses are always indescribable. To cut a long story short I was in mid action of laying her gently down on the bed, my tongue dominantly seeking entrance, fully tingling all over when my door burst open, bulky shopping bags exceeding my mom's shocked figure.

Considering my mom always thought Miley the picture of innocence, seeing us making out was somewhat an enormous shock. No doubt she thought Miley would squash my sexual urges and rip apart my hormonal urges because she appears so angelic and untouchable. Of course she'd expect no better from me, she already thinks I'm a bad influence and has once warned me never to take advantage, since Miley is oh so delicate and adorable and all.

"Mom, Miley's not even here right now."

"I'm sure your mouth would be preoccupied if she was," she teases genially.

I throw my hands up. "I'm not an animal … but it is natural to want to kiss her. Plus, Miley is the same age as me too, she also has hormones. I can't take all the credit."

"That's great, Lil. Really. I'd just prefer not to walk in while you're in the middle of tonsil tennis." My mom smirks devilishly, enjoying my humiliation as I fiddle with my sleeve distractedly. Anything to avoid meeting her smug expression.

"It was awkward enough the first time, let's not relive it," I groan pleadingly.

My mom cuts me off smoothly. "Honey, you're old enough to take responsibility for your actions and handle them in a mature way, especially when dealing with the consequences. If you want to _get it on_ with the girl you obviously adore and respect, that's your business, right? Plus, you can't get pregnant!" she chirps enthusiastically, crossing her legs.

"Mom!" I yell, flustered.

"Just don't go pouncing on her; Miley is the best thing that ever happened to you and I'd hate for you to mess it up. Ever since you started dating you've been radiant, so don't go pressuring her into se-"

"Mom!" I hastily interrupt. "Can we not do this!? We've been dating almost five months, we're not ready for _that_step and if we ever do …" I'm blushing crimson at the thought, "I'm not telling you!"

My mom looks hurt as she strokes Holly. "We can talk about these things openly, Lil. I'm a cool mom."

"Okay, cool mom, what are you doing in here with your bald rodent?" I eye the Chihuahua distastefully.

"Stop insulting Holly." She holds her dog protectively and plants a kiss on its hairless forehead; I resist the urge to gag at the display of affection. "Anyway, I came to ask you how the couple search is going ala internet?"

I sigh and open up my laptop again. "It sucks so far. All I want is for two girls in a similar situation to us agree to meet up just to reassure Miles that we're not going it alone. She doesn't say anything but when we're in public I know she worries what other people are thinking. I just want her to be more comfortable until we're ready to come out and talking to someone experiencing the same thing might give her confidence a boost. I've been checking sites for a couple of months but no such look …"

There's silence and I look up, quite disturbed by the quiet. My mom is smiling.

"You've grown up so much, Lilly, I'm really proud of you."

I feel warm and bubbly. "Thanks."

"Want to hug it out?" My mom offers with sentimentality and sniffs back the oncoming tears.

Regardless of the gratitude, I scoot back and frown. "Don't ruin the moment."

Secretly I'm on cloud nine over having her continuous support and constant advice and guidance through these confusing and awkward times. If ever I'm having a problem whether it's with school or life in general she's that sturdy rock that knocks me back into reality, no matter how harsh she needs to be. And of course she absolutely adores Miley even more now we're dating. At first all of the advice about being romantic and sensitive with her was annoying but over time I've taken notes and I think its working to an advantage. Obviously my mom went through teenage life and dating so she knows something about what I'm going through I guess. And I think Miley appreciates having my mom on side, they're quite close.

Whenever me and my dad are mid-argument (which happens a lot) she breaks it apart and cools us down. Since my dad doesn't know about my relationship I have to tread carefully and my mom is helping anyway she can although she has been urging me to confess. She doesn't like lying to dad but I know she won't tell him even if I don't.

Looking at the computer screen my mom says, "Just keep checking. I'm sure something will come along when you least expect it."

My cell phone buzzes and I flip it open after shoving Holly and her quivering form off my pillow while my mom stalks to open the window to 'let some air in' as she says.

_We're stopping by before we go to the party. Smiley says xoxo. Love Oliver. _

"Miles and Ollie are coming here before they hit the party," I recite aloud, feeling butterflies at Miley's little message.

"What party?" my mom inquires nosily.

"Well, some girl is throwing a small party and Oliver scored an invite since she's his chem. partner. It's really low key and more than likely going to be the boring equivalence to a student body meeting. He's allowed to bring someone so Miley's going with him since I'm anti-social within crowds."

Hands on hips, my mom bites her lip. "And you're okay with that?"

"Yeah, I trust Miley." I shrug like its not big deal, which it isn't. The party is minute.

"You're like the most jealous person I know," my mom deadpans with a snort.

I flare up easily. "She's going with Oliver and he knows to keep her safe. They both have me on speed dial if they want anything so I have no need to panic. Hello, the worse that could happen at that party is if they died of boredom from all the academic lectures."

My mom beams. "Wow, you really have grown up."

"Lilly! Door!" Matt yells from downstairs, sounding muffled because he is eating chips while playing video games.

I grin and saunter downstairs at a quick pace, literally beaming as I wrench open the door and clap eyes on my gorgeous girlfriend. She's wearing jeans that rest on her hips, boots and a sleeveless shirt. Before I drool all over the welcome mat, I grasp the side of the house for stability.

"I'm here too!" Oliver waves.

I look her up and down one last time because she's turning red at my x-ray gaze. "You look amazing," I compliment breathlessly.

"Thank-you," she whispers shyly and smiles that golden smile of hers.

"Seriously guys, I'm right here!" Oliver complains petulantly. "Lilly, stop making googly eyes at her and tell me how good I look."

I bow. "Oken, you're a king."

"Okay,_now_ you can check her out." He steps back and showcases her.

Simultaneously Miley and I land a punch on each shoulder, causing him to yelp indignantly.

By now my mom has followed me down the stairs and is standing behind me at the door with a fond smile. Okay, she needs some friends of her own; she's forever trying to be cool with mine.

"Yo, Mrs. T," Oliver greets casually. He's known her since forever; he's like her adopted son.

Miley looks down in embarrassment as she remembers their last encounter. "Hi, Mrs. Truscott."

"You're practically family, Miles. Call me Heather."

At this Oliver looks appalled. "Aren't I family?"

"If you can get Lilly to pass English like Miley and her tutoring has done then you can call me whatever you want," she assures him.

"Ha!" I sneer pointlessly.

"Like Lilly pays attention to work when Miley's there. She's probably getting lessons in anatomy – OUCH!"

I unclench my fist. "It slipped," I say innocently.

Sweetly, Oliver jiggles his foot. "My foots gonna slip-"

Miley rolls her eyes at our banter and it's so cute I forget my comeback. She always has this effect on me. Dopily, I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out for a change. Oliver watches bemused and folds his arms complacently.

"Well, I'm going to go feed Hollywood. I'll be seeing you kids later, Oliver, Miley, have a nice time at the party and remember to stay safe." My mom claps her hands together and exits the area after sensing I want alone time and she's intruded enough for one day.

Without any further ado or delay I wrap Miley in a tight embrace, squeezing her lovingly. For once Oliver doesn't make a smart comment but lets us have our moment.

"Have fun at the party, 'kay? Remember I lo-" I stop abruptly, heart pounding.

Miley pulls back with wide eyes. "What did you just say?"

"I was going to say …" I take a deep breath, crossing my fingers for luck. "Remember I love you."

In the background Oliver grins as Miley gaps in surprise.

"Y-You love me?" she stutters incredulously and I almost laugh because I thought it was obvious.

I always thought that saying those three little words was the hardest thing to do but I feel so light and ecstatic now I've revealed something I've wanted to say from the very beginning.

"Yes." I nod contentedly, my eyes alight. "So much. I've wanted to tell you for so long."

She opens her mouth to reply and I brace myself but Oliver stands in front of us.

"I hate to break it up but we have a party to get to, Miles."

I silently curse him and his bad timing. Damn it, Oken! Way to ruin what was meant to be the most perfect moment of my life so far. But, I could have waited to say it in a more romantic setting; I kind of pick my moments too.

I wink at Miley to signal we'll resume this later as Oliver drags her away.

"I'll see you guys later."

I wait until they're in his car before blowing them a kiss and waving until they drive out of sight, Miley smiling with a new light in her beautiful blue orbs. She was going to say it back, I just know it.

I finally walk inside, missing her already. Thankfully my mom is nowhere around because I can't be faced with another chat with her so soon after the last one. Instead, Matt beckons me from the living room, pausing his video game.

"Lillian, get your ass in here so I can own you."

Never one to resist a challenge I heartily obey to kick his ass. Besides, I need something to take my mind off of Miley. Maybe later I'll call her and wish her a good night and sweet dreams. Maybe tomorrow we can go to the beach or the mall.

A couple of hours later my eyes are blurry and my limbs are stiff. Collapsing back against the couch, rubbing my temples, I notice Matt looking at me as though contemplating something.

"Can I ask you something?"

I ponder his question sarcastically. "Erm, no."

"Seriously, smartass." He looks fidgety, which can only mean he's troubled.

"Okay then, maybe."

"Do you think it's fucked up when you see an older brother or sister dating their younger brother or sister's best friend?"

Yes, it's fucked up. Suddenly I feel ominous, like a cloud of dread has descended over my head. The hairs on my arms stand on end and I lick my dry lips nervously. Then I get a wave of anger because I have a bad sensation that I know where this is going.

"Why?" I snap.

He runs a hand through his hair to stall time. "Don't take this in a bad way but Miley is, well, hot."

What. The. Hell. He's not allowed to even think she's hot, never mind speak it aloud. It's not his right, he's not allowed! He reassured me months ago that he didn't like her that way and I was jealous over the allusion that he did! That was fake back then, but now he thinks she's hot! I love her, she's mine! Not his to gawk at …

Gritting my teeth and digging my nails into my palm, I address him coolly. "Don't even go there."

He looks shocked at my reaction. "Whoa, chill, Lills…"

"No, Matt! You can't fucking like her, okay?" I demand.

"Will you calm down? Jesus, I only said she was hot!"

"Don't talk about her like that," I hiss scathingly.

Matt picks up his controller and cracks his fingers insecurely. "Forget I said anything."

Already forgotten. I leave his presence before I say something I regret and make my way to the stairs until I'm distracted by my cell phone ringing. Fumbling around in my pocket, I finally locate it and answer it without checking the caller ID, still fuming over the latest discovery.

"Hello?"

"Lilly!" Oliver yells over the sound of loud music and cheering people. "Can you hear me?"

"Oliver?" I look at the phone in my hand in puzzlement. That's some pretty loud music to say they're listening to a lecture. "What's going on?"

"You need to get over here right now, Lil! It's urgent!"

My stomach drops and I grip the phone tightly, immediately thinking the worst.

"What is it, Oliver? What?"

"Miley is really drunk," I can barely hear him yell. "You need to come pick her up …"

Now my stomach is at rock bottom. Miley drunk and Oliver calling me to pick her up can't mean anything great. Without hanging up the phone I grab my jacket, my car keys and race out of the door with no explanation to my mom or brother where I'm going. They don't even realize the front door is wide open as I practically dive in the car.

"Where is the party at, Oliver?" I try to remain calm as I put on my seatbelt and put the car in drive.

"Do you know where Jenny Brooke lives?"

I freeze at the mention of my worst enemy's name.

That slut. That complete and utter whore. What the heck are they doing there in the first place?

"We didn't even know it was her house, apparently it was her cousin having the party and Jenny got some keg and invited a shit load of people. Lilly, you need to get over here fast. Miles is just …. I've never seen her like this before, she's really not herself."

"For the love of god Oliver just watch her and keep her away from that blood sucking leech!" I throw my phone on the seat beside me and step on the accelerator.

Trust poor naïve Miley to get into a situation like this, and trust Oliver to be gullible enough to accept an invitation to some random party in the first place when he should have done a background check on the person actually throwing it. Whenever Jenny Brooke is mentioned the sentence following is never a good one. Miley being there and completely unaware of what she's doing is really fatal, especially when Jenny has had her beady eyes on her since the beginning of high school. Hatred flares through my veins until I finally reach the house in question. From the outside it doesn't look like a wild party is being thrown but through the windows it's obvious.

I basically run over to the front door and wrench it open, ducking inside inconspicuously. A typical senior party setting leers back at me and I dodge in-between drunken teenagers, fighting my way into the kitchen, all the while scanning the crowd. I decide to go outside onto the back deck, where to my relief I see Oliver standing with a very tipsy looking Miley. He has his arms wrapped around her and is looking apprehensive.

"Oliver!" I barrel over and grab an unstable Miley by the arms. "What the fuck?"

"I know, I know." Oliver waves off vaguely, transferring her dead weight onto me. "I think Jenny spiked her drink or something."

"That little-"

"I think its best if you take her home. You should take her back to your house; her dad would kill her if she stumbled in blind drunk." Oliver rubs his temples, the music pounding in our ears. "I would have taken her home but I think she's safest with you."

I nod automatically, wiping the hair from Miley's rosy face as she clings onto me and giggles. It's really weird to see her like this, I feel so hopeless. There's not much I can do except get her home and lay her in bed to sleep it off. But it doesn't look like she's in the mood for cooperating; I could just kill Jenny!

"You okay, Miles?" I ask gently, laying one hand on her cheek so she'll focus.

"You're so hot, Lilly …" she mumbles and grabs onto my shirt, scrunching it up into her hands.

Despite everything she still makes me blush. Oliver grabs Miley's arm and gives me a nod, telling me silently to walk around the house to the car.

"We're going home now, Miles. We're going back to mine," I reassure her like she's a child. I've never dealt with a drunken person before, I don't know what I'm doing and Oliver sure as heck isn't helping. He should have been keeping at eye on her!

"Why can't we stay?" Miley slurs as we half carry her. "Lilly, you'll have wicked fun inside, I swear. Dancing and dancing and…"

"Maybe later," I heed her. We near the front of the house by creeping in the shadows and to my dismay none other than Jenny Brooke is stood outside with a cigarette, wearing a mini skirt and short shirt that reveals way too much skin.

"Lilly," Oliver warns and nods to my parked car to remind me what we're supposed to be doing and not get sidetracked.

"Lilly Truscott!" Jenny suddenly yells and I wince as her screechy voice reaches my ears. Firmly gripping Miley, I stop and face her because I'm powerless to do anything else when I hate her so much I'm glaring daggers. She's stood by the door and we've just reached the road, Oliver tugging on Miley's arm to get me moving again. "Stewart is such a party girl! I never knew." She sneers condescendingly, looking to spark a reaction. I'm so mad I'm shaking. "When she was grinding up and down on me I swear to god she was ready for me to take her right then and there-"

I make a beeline for her, dropping Miley so Oliver has to quickly crouch and scoop her up, his cries falling unnoticed in the night air. All I want to do right now is rip her fake extensions out and beat the crap out of her for doing this. Needless to say she's prepared to fight and has dropped her cigarette, almost willing me to throw a punch and start a brawl. It's as I reach her that I remember Miley's state. She's almost passed out on the roadside and I'm being an irresponsible girlfriend. Jenny Brooke is not my priority right now.

"Are you jealous that Stewart wants me instead of you, Truscott?" she tries to provoke but I block her out. It's the only way to remain sane.

Nor caring what she thinks of me, I turn back and run over to Miley who is wide awake and a little disoriented as she leans against the car, a little woozy. Exactly how much alcohol is in her system?

"Just get her in the car," I order of Oliver while I try to collect my temper.

Jenny is jeering at me but I clench my fists and will my anger to dissipate, for my frustration to ooze away. It's not easy but I manage to restrain myself and clamber into the driver's seat, checking Miley's seatbelt as I start up the engine. Oliver salutes to me from outside and mimes that he's going home in his car and he'll call me tomorrow.

"We're going home now, Miles. I think you've had enough excitement for one night."

The road is dark and threatening; I'm not comfortable with driving at night. I have no alternative so I just suck it up and deal with it, glancing to the side occasionally to check on the tipsy brunette.

"I am so drunk." Miley hiccoughs and rests her head against the cool glass of the window in a lazy motion, eyes half closed.

I sigh and squeeze the steering wheel. "I know you are." I see Miley wake up slightly out of the corner of my eye and for her to look at me with a look I can't decipher.

Miley changes her tone to seductive. "I'm gonna give it to you so hard, Lilly. I wanna fuck you so bad… Do you think about it? Sex? I wonder what it would be like with you."

The car swerves in my surprise. This is most definitely not my Miley. She would never ever say something as vulgar as that, although her words have made me squirm a little in my seat. Still, drunken Miley is a little out there and I just hope for her sake she doesn't remember any of this in the morning. I think she would die an early death if she remembers what she actually said to me.

Her hand suddenly reaches over and rests on my thigh.

"What are you doing?" My palms are sweating and they're slipping a little on the steering wear and clutch. "C'mon now, Miles. We're almost at my house." I fake cheeriness to hide my apprehension.

"Didn't you hear me?" Miley asks sleepily and leans over, surveying me closely.

"I heard you. Let's just … wait until we get home." I'll say anything to keep her on side right now.

Finally, we reach my home and the front door is still wide open. Oh great, they didn't even notice I left in the first place.

Miley opens the door shakily and I run around to grab her before her legs tremble.

"You're like my superman or something …" she yawns and chuckles.

"That's right." I smile and gently walk with her to the door. "I'm your superman."

"Superman rocks," she assures me softly. "How cool is it that he can fly?"

"Very," I say eagerly, tip-toeing inside and nudging the door closed with my foot, praying for it not to make a noise. Getting caught would be such a wasted effort. "We have to be quiet." I try and figure a way for me to get her upstairs and into my room without attracting unwanted pandemonium. Time is ticking and I'm scanning ideas … Alas, my brain sparks an idea and I smile at Miley encouragingly as she touches the flowers in the vase on the table. "I'm gonna pick you up," I inform her and without further ado grab her thighs and wrap them around my waist as she upon reflex wraps her arms around my neck. I proceed to entwine both of my arms around her back and I tentatively begin the journey upstairs, trying not to think how nice it feels to have her like this.

"I'm exhausted," Miley mumbles in my ear, her hair almost obscuring my vision.

Upon reaching the landing, I heave a sigh of relief and carry her the last few meters into my bedroom, body shaking with the fact she's in my arms and utmost relief that she's safe and okay. Anything could have happened tonight.

"You're comfy," Miley mutters as I carefully sit her down on the bed and unhook her arms from around my neck.

"So are you." I smile and take off her boots. After managing to rid her of any sharp appliances I make sure her head hits the pillow and all body parts are on my double bed. Even utterly wasted she's still my beautiful angel, my sweet Miley. And no matter what she does I'll always love her as much as I do now. I don't so much as change into my own pajamas before lying down with her and stroking her hair while her breathing becomes rhythmic.

"What am I going to do with you?" I ask rhetorically and place a kiss against her flushed forehead. I watch her, making sure she's safe, my fingers entwining into the ends of her brown tresses lovingly. "I was so scared, Miles." I admit. "I can't believe Jenny. I'm going to protect you no matter what. You hear me? I love you so much. Too much."

And even in her slumber a pleasant smile graces Miley's sleeping features as that promise was made.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

**Yay! A quicker update! **** Hope you guys enjoyed it; I was originally going to have Miley try and come on to Lilly while she was in her state of drunkenness but just thought the ending went a little better. Again, thank-you for reading and I'll hopefully update ASAP :) I should also say thanks for writing your own awesome Liley stories and sharing, they're inspiring. **


	13. Nightmares versus Dreams

In my dream I stare upon my beautiful bride. The smile on her face lights up the deserted courtyard, putting the levitated lanterns to shame. Their light is dim in comparison, she glows an aura of profound pureness. Maybe it is her dress; maybe it is the look of adoration shining deep within her crystalline eyes as she holds out a gentle hand and beckons for me to join her at the alter to say our vows and exchange rings.

It is then I remember this is a wedding, _my wedding_, where is everyone? The cool night air ruffles my locks, my feet automatically pace forward without my knowledge. I want this; this is what I've always wanted. But … why isn't anyone else here to witness our official declaration of love? The aisles are eerily empty. They shouldn't be … should they?

Before I can pause to delve inside my jeans for my cell phone – wait, jeans? My eyes flicker to my outfit. Denim and a black shirt? This is _my_ wedding! This is ludicrous; I'm not getting married in jeans! Just as I'm about to turn and run to the nearest bridal store, something pulls me back. Unable to take another step, I aim to plea with Miley to let me change, to postpone the ceremony so I can make our night perfect. However, like everything in my life, my luck runs out. My blood turns cold. The heart in my chest which was previously beating with excitement freezes.

The ghostly figure of society in the form of my dad steps forth from the darkness, animosity streaming from his red eyes. No. Not on my wedding day. Desperately, I try to run to Miley so I can grab her and we can escape. We don't need the ceremony; we can elope without anyone ever knowing. What do they matter anyway? He will _not_ ruin my life. Society cannot suppress my happiness.

"Miley!" I yell to get her attention, for some reason she's not looking at me. This is ridiculous, why isn't she noticing the horrors at hand? Its then, as I force my leaden legs to move, I see that tears stains her cheeks, the droplets sparkling like tiny stars. "Miley! Miley!"

"What are you doing, Lillian? You can't be together. You know that. Come back with me and I'll get you help, this is not who you are. My daughter does not love a girl, it's disgusting and you will go to hell. You have no future, people will hate you. Miley will wake up one day and realize that she's stuck in a dead end relationship and leave you. Lillian, she will leave you to find a nice boy and have children like a conventional couple should. Come with me, Lillian …" His voice is icy and persuasive, his rigid smile taunting and traverse. His advancing stature makes me cower with ceasing resistance. My back hits one of the chairs.

This is everything I've ever feared, that Miley will want to leave me... realize I'm not what she wants. That she's not gay. I breathlessly choke out a sob as I look upon the podium Miley now seems to be stood behind. The white dress is gone; she's dressed like a judge.

"M-Miley?"

The smile on her face isn't hers. This isn't her, it can't be. "You're going to hell, Lilly." And with that she slams her hand on the podium and I let out a scream as the floor beneath my feet opens and flames lick the souls of my feet …

I awake abruptly, my heart pounding a dozen beats a second. Rigid as a board, the covers pool around my waist and I'm breathing heavily. I hold out my hand, it's shaking recklessly and my stomach is twisting. That was awful. Goosebumps have erupted on my bare arms and I shiver and wrap my arms around my chest protectively, curling myself as small as possible. Never again …

The sound of someone retching breaks my stupor and I flinch in shock. The bathroom light is on; I can see a shadow hovering by the toilet. All at once flashbacks of last night hit me and I gasp and scramble out of bed. Miley must be suffering hangover symptoms and I've not been there to help her! What kind of a girlfriend am I?

Instantly, I drop to the cold tiles and hold her damp brunette hair back for her as she empties her stomach, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering words of comfort into her ear. My poor little Miley. I wish I could make her better, but this is something that will pass over time.

"Fucking Oliver," I curse as she pulls down the lid and rests her forehead against it drowsily, face pale and her body shaking, "Fucking party."

"Lilly …" she mumbles into her arm and I hug her from behind as I kneel up, hands resting gently on her stomach as she groans.

"Am I hurting you?" I ask quietly, nuzzling the back of her head softly and lovingly.

She shakes her head defiantly. "No… Don't move."

"Whatever you want," I promise her and with one arm reach over to the damp towel I see on the floor, clasping it to her forehead. Her heart rate, which I could feel drastically reverberating against one of my hands, slows down to a normal beat and I sigh in relief. "How about we get you back to bed?"

"N-no … I want to stay here," she argues weakly and pulls herself up more onto the commode, sliding back down again. "Oh, God, Lilly, I feel so ill …"

"That's what happens when you drink, Miles. You end up flat on your face in the bathroom feeling like the world is ending," I tell her in a calming voice, "I'm taking you back to bed now; I think you're all puked out. Don't worry, I'll look after you. You have me." Her hair is sticking to her like strands of seaweed. She's so small and vulnerable in my arms I feel a tear threaten to spill. God, she's so breakable. I just want to protect her and never allow her out of my sight in fear she'll rip like paper.

"I want ... I want …" she babbles hopelessly as I release her with caution. As soon as I let go and straighten up she flops to the side and sprawls out with another moan. "Urgh, leave me here to die," she exclaims melodramatically and closes her eyes tightly as she trembles.

"Oh, Miles," I mutter fondly and squat down, placing one hand on her smooth bare leg.

"I'll infect you," she warns with a pathetic slur, "I have a virus …"

I stifle a chuckle at her drunken antics. "You're hung over from alcohol. I don't think you're contagious. Besides, even if you were it wouldn't keep me away. We'd just be in quarantine together, huh?"

A flicker of a smile appears on her face, curving her lips. "Stop sweet talking me…"

I realize we could be lying in the bathroom until dawn if I don't take the initiative and move her. It's not healthy for her to pass out on the cold tiles in only her short shorts and camisole. Yes, any other time I would be drooling all over her amazing body and blushing as she catches me knowingly, but these aren't normal circumstances. This is a partial emergency, I'm in my Miley mode and when I'm activated there's no time for gawking over her form. "C'mon, up we go," I encourage as I step over her to reach her upper torso. Feebly, she swats me away and grunts but puts up no major resistance so it's relatively easy to maneuver her into a sitting position. Though it's slow work trying not to jiggle her around, I mange to somewhat pick her up bridal style and carry her to my bed. Even though it's a person I'm holding she weighs nothing in my arms, I think I can't feel anything right now.

"I'm going to die …" Miley says as I place her down under the comforter and make sure her head hits the pillow as she squirms a little upon contact.

"You always were the drama queen, weren't you?" Making sure I situate her in the middle of the bed so if she rolls she won't fall out, I prop some cushions on either side. "Who thought I would ever be doing this for you, huh? You're the sweet innocent one."

Miley scoffs … well, tries to, it's more like a splutter. "Innocent?"

I smile and pull down her camisole which is riding up a little. The color white is quite paradoxical in this moment I think. "Well, you're right about that, I hope you don't remember what you said to me in the car when you wake up. I think innocent Miley might have a heart attack."

"Uh-huh," she agrees without really listening. No doubt any sound is a blur. Thankfully she appears to be dozing off into what I hope is a pleasant slumber. I make a mental note to be on hand when she wakes up with some headache pills and a cold compress, plus my most sympathetic smile.

"Snuggle with me," her sleepy request reaches my ears as she reaches out for my arm, only for her hand to fall short on top of the covers. "Please," she whines, "cuddle with me."

I obey without a second thought, laying close beside her but not touching as I survey her face, still so beautiful, still evoking the same uncontrollable butterflies inside my stomach.

However, she's not impressed as she peers through half closed eyes. "Why aren't you touching me?"

"No pressure. I'm not having you throwing up again."

The thing with Miley is that when she really wants something she'll get it. Maybe to the eye she doesn't appear that type of person but I know her, and right now she wants to be close to me, to have that reassuring contact that I could never deny her. So she stays lying on her back, probably the best position for her, and grabs my arm as I continue to lie on my side to place around her waist. Next, she touches my leg with hers and sighs contently, finally at peace. Whether she's still convinced that she's infecting me and that we're going to quarantine I have no idea, but she'll be sober when she wakes up.

"G'night, Lil."

I glance over at the digital clock over her shoulder. 3:30 Am. I place a kiss against her forehead and secure my one armed hold, placing the other underneath the pillow as I watch her like a guardian angel. The eventual rhythmic movement of her chest convinces me she's asleep and in that moment I know that my nightmares don't mean a thing.

"Goodnight, Miles."

Once the sun is shining through the curtains, illuminating my floor, I know that it's time to struggle against sleep and be productive; I have priorities and reasonability's. There's Miley's father to contact, in the hectic haste last night I completely forgot about him. He's bound to be worried. Then there's the fact that the brunette is here when she shouldn't be, no one knows what happened last night and it's definitely going to stay that way. Out of my entire household I know my mom will understand, I think I'll slip out quietly and address her on the facts. However, just as I'm about to attempt to clamber out of bed Miley's hold on me tightens and she mumbles into my ear. The heart I always thought was made of stone before I met her melts and I debate whether to move at all when she's being like this. Clingy Miley is adorable.

"Damn it, I can never get anything done with you around," I pretend to be huffy as I lean back against the head board, her arms still fixated around me with her face snuggled into my neck, her hot breath sending pleasant tingles along my spine.

"Lilly?" My door mysteriously opens a crack, my mom's face appearing in the doorway with a cup of water in an outstretched arm. She notices the sleeping girl and presses a finger to her lips and then beckons for me to join her outside. Nodding, I reluctantly untangle from her grip and tip-toe into the hallway.

"How's she feeling?" The first thing my mom says to me is punctuated by the fact she is actually holding headache pills as well as the water.

I'm surprised and do a shocked double-take. "How did you-"

"Oh please, I'm your mom. Do you think that I didn't know?"

I grin sheepishly and look back through the door to the figure sprawled haphazardly on the bed, twisted in the covers. "She's fine for now."

My mom's gaze follows mine. "Poor girl, I'm sure it wasn't her choice to get in that state."

"It wasn't. That bitch Jenny Brooke was responsible." I seethe at the thought of her smug arrogant face trying to provoke me.

"Ah. That explains it." Absent-mindedly she stirs in the pills with a plastic spoon. "I talked to Robbie Ray, he knows that she stopped over because she was tired and didn't want to be driving any further and risk having accident. Just stick to that story and her behind will be saved."

"This is why I love you," I joke and a huge weight leaves my shoulders. I should've known, parents can see all. Plus, it's just a bonus that my mom is so supportive. I knew that she would help me out in this sticky situation. "Can you go away now, please? I'll take those." I take the packet and water from her and kick the door gently open with my foot.

"Oh, and Lilly?"

I signal for her to continue, frustrated at the hold up.

"Couldn't you have forgotten your hormones for one night and gave Miley less revealing pajamas?"

A blush quickly stains my cheeks and I hastily close the door. It's a disease with her; she just can't resist embarrassing me. I could be on my death-bed and she'd reminisce about the time she walked in on me and Miley making out. If she ever caught us having se- I stop quickly and burn crimson. I'm not thinking about that. It's only been five months.

"Hmm," Miley mumbles sleepily, hugging a pillow to her chest.

I sit on the end of the bed and do my best while holding the glass of water in one to unravel the covers from around her with the other. "Can you move?" I inquire.

Her reply is inaudible. I think she just cursed at me.

"Shake a leg, beautiful. It's time to greet another crappy day," I persuade.

"Beautiful?" she snorts into the pillow and rolls over, facing away from me. "I feel and look like garbage."

"No, Miles, you look perfect." I'm not lying, my voice is utter sincerity. "Here." I rub her side and lean over to hand her the drink. "It'll make you feel better."

"Urgh," she grumbles as she runs both hands through her hair and sits up. Taking a sniff of the substance, she grimaces and takes a couple of huge gulps, swilling it around her mouth before swallowing and coughing, thrusting the glass onto the bedside table as she covers her mouth. "Urgh," she groans again, whether from all of the sharp movements or the prospect of indulging on tablets. "I feel like a monster truck has trampled all over my head."

"On the bright side it's not supposed to rain today." I smile optimistically to raise her mood.

She peers at me strangely through her wild mane. "It's California," she deadpans croakily; "It hardly ever rains."

"Well, I'm sorry Miss Weather Machine," I tease and she throws me a glare. "Want me to run you a nice hot bubble bath?"

"That would be heaven."

The next thing I know Miley is in my bath tub with her beloved bubbles, pushing a rubber duck from side to side with foamy hands. Atop her head lays a mound of bubbles and her soapy nose has also suffered my attack. The prospect of her being naked while I'm 'supervising' is doing all sorts of weird things to my insides. I daren't look for too long just incase the bubbles shift and I'll be too tempted.

"I'm never drinking again," she vows like everyone does after they get drunk. "I've brushed my teeth seven times and I can still taste the dang alcohol." For emphasis she sticks out her tongue disdainfully. "I feel so confused about what happened. I remember driving away from here with Oliver and then Jenny handing me a drink and then … you carrying me up the stairs and that's it." She makes a popping noise. "The end."

A horrific thought strikes me and I start to panic. What if Miley can't remember that I told her I loved her? "Do you remember talking to me before you left for the party?"

The urgency in my voice causes her to look at me with concern.

"I mean…" I try to arrange my panicked thoughts, "… we just … we talked before you left," I splutter lamely, avoiding her eye and focusing on my sink with fake interest.

"I remember," Miley says warmly and I know she's smiling that perfect smile. "You said that you loved me."

"Yeah," I clarify, relieved. "I do love you, Miles." I take a look at our surroundings and we both laugh. "Why do I always pick a time like this to say such sentimental things?"

Miley laughs harder and takes my hand with her wet one. "Because you're Lilly."

"Does that explain it all?" I playfully ask and scoop up some more bubbles to smear on her head. "The fact that 'I'm Lilly' is the mysterious answer to life?"

"Duh," she jokes and wipes all of the excess foam from her hair, blowing it away from the palm of her hand. "I love you too," she tells me seriously and my heart swells.

"I want to …" I motion wildly around, unable to voice my inner elatedness. I stand up and run my hands through my hair, laughing. There's not any feeling in the world like this one. I suspected it but to hear it throws me in a whole new dimension. "I want to kiss you so bad right now!" I settle for, itching to hold her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

"I'm so lucky to have you," she smiles shyly.

"No." I shake my head, needing her to understand. "I'm the lucky one. I mean that, Miles. Without you I can't imagine what my life would be like for it sure as hell wouldn't be like this. You've … saved me."

"We're even," Miley agrees and beckons for me to lean over so she can place a soft moist kiss against my lips.

The afternoon finds us settled in my living room with the TV on mute and the curtains drawn. We're settled lazily on the couch, Miley molded into my side while I play casually with her soft brunette locks. After her bath she's feeling much more sober and refreshed, plus, she looks hot in my clothes. They're baggy and worn in, my favorite lounge-around-the-house outfit but they look so much better on her. I like how she smells of my body wash and shampoo. Preferably she would smell like her own natural scent but it's like she's … mine by wearing my things. I love this feeling of commitment, this place in our relationship.

Earlier Oliver stopped by to apologize for the party. He too was sporting a headache so my mom made him sit down and drink her own concocted remedy. It was a risk but it apparently worked. Her two patients have made a full recovery.

"I love you," I find myself saying for the hundredth time this morning.

"For the hundredth time, I love you too," she murmurs back sleepily.

"I love you," I repeat lovingly. The effect she has on me makes me giddy.

"Change the record," Miley orders light heartedly, pretending to be tired of hearing it.

"Guess what?" I question, making my tone of voice serious.

She falls for it. "What?"

"I love you," I grin, being sickeningly sugary sweet. God, I make myself gag. I've hated the world for long enough, when for once I don't think it sucks I go all out in celebration. That's my excuse.

"Who knew you were this nice and caring? You're making my teeth ache." Miley rubs her nose into my chin and I inhale quietly. "What happened to the Lilly who forgets my birthday?"

"That was the first year we were friends! I wasn't a freakin' mind reader!" I defend.

"Blah blah." Miley places a soft kiss into my neck and sighs. "Thanks for taking care of me. I don't mean to be a burden."

"You? A burden? You're never a burden. Just a pain in the ass at times," I joke for of course she's never a pain. But she makes _me _ache a good type of pain. We're enraptured in a lull of contentment right now. The couch is my island and she is my paradise. "We should go to Hawaii someday," I tell her as my fingers draw patterns on her arm, imagining the scene in my head.

She wrinkles her nose at my random comment. "Okay. Sure. Hawaii it is."

Just then my mom announces her untimely arrival by scurrying into the living room, her fluffy pink slippers making an annoying sound on the carpet. For once Miley doesn't leap up as another joins our lull of happiness. She doesn't even flinch. Instead she yawns and shifts one of her hands so it's further down on my ribs as opposed to lying just underneath my bra. Well, she's not _that_ confident to leave it there in front of my mom.

"How are you feeling, sweetie? Can I get you anything?" my mom asks sympathetically and perches on the coffee table.

Miley smiles and shakes her head. "I'm fine, Mrs. Truscott. Thank-you again for letting me stop over."

"Not that you had a choice," I add on.

"It's no problem, Miley. I consider you family." My mom waves off the gratitude before she gets a bigger head. "Just letting you girls know that I'm taking Holly to get her nails clipped. You'll be home alone for a while so if you need me I have my cell."

The parental side of her makes me want to laugh but for the sake of getting her out of the house so we can have our privacy prevents me from making a sound. I lift up a hand lazily and wave a goodbye, but Miley is more vocal. Before long the door closes, the house falls silent and I change positions so we're both sitting up.

"Kiss me."

"Is this why you practically forced your mom out of the house?" Miley raises one eyebrow challengingly.

I nod and lean forward. "Kiss me."

I take her chin gently and lift it up, catching her eyes before softly touching her lips with mine. We remain unmoving for a few moments, until slowly I move my mouth against hers, tasting her sweetly. The innocent kiss lasts for a few more seconds, but I feel a rush of need to further it, so I push a little deeper. She greets this well and applies more pressure. She's adamant about keeping her mouth closed, I know she wants to tease me and she's doing an admirable job because I'm getting frustrated. I want to explore her mouth. I want to claim my right. I lick her lips, gently at first but then more fiercely when she refuses me entry. It's like she's trying not to laugh. Still not discouraged, I try forcing my determined tongue but she changes tactic and kisses me a different way. Just as I'm about ready to give up and try to tickle her, I get a bold inspiration. Two weeks ago I would not have done this but I'm more confident now, I'm willing to take risks.

I let my hand slowly slide up her leg, along her thigh and to the hem of her shirt, lingering near the edge. I can tell with the way she's kissing me that she's fully aware of what I'm doing. Tilting my head in the other direction to capture her lips again, I let my hand slide underneath the fabric of her shirt and rest on her smooth, tan stomach. This is heaven. She gasps and I use that to my advantage to probe my tongue in and rub against hers. She hisses and I grow aflame all over. I let my other hand climb up the back of her shirt, sensually pressing into her back as I scan it up and down. A slight breathless and unexpected moan escapes her and I enthusiastically pursue our activity.

I lay her down so she's on her back on the couch, sliding her thighs apart so I can hover in between them. Our gazes lock for a mere second as we break for air. Nodding, she grips my hips. I move to pepper kisses along her jaw line until I reach her neck and start to pay attention to the expanse of skin. Meanwhile, she's playing with my belt until suddenly she accidentally presses against me and I whisper-yell, "Shit!" in a kind of groan.

The profanity breaks apart the lull we're enraptured in and I open my eyes quickly. She's looking back in mild shock, her breathing slightly heavier.

"Are you okay?" I inquire, hoping I haven't pushed her too far, still suspended over her so she's looking up with a child like innocence.

She nods and pecks me on the lips. "We've been dating for five months, I'm fine."

"I know but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Lilly." She smiles, my breath hitching into my dry throat as I register fully for the first time that she's underneath me. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry, I'm a big girl. I think we're allowed to make out every once in a while."

Hearing her actually say what we're doing adds to my humility. I quickly check so see if I've made a mark on her neck and pray I haven't. Thankfully, I didn't get to focus too long on that task so the skin is a little red but definitely no tacky hickey in sight.

"You haven't-"

"No." I reassure her.

"Good." Her hands gently move me from atop her body and she shyly straightens up.

Just as I'm about to comment on how messy I have made her hair, a gasp from the door turns my blood icy cold and I grimace. No …

"What the fuck were you two just doing?" Matt interrogates with shocked eyes.

I aim to yell a profanity back but a figure standing behind my older brother halts the words escaping my throat. Miley whimpers, my eyes widen in fear and on reflex I hold out an arm to protect her from the verbal abuse I know is coming.

"Lilly!" Matt demands but I'm not paying attention to him, he doesn't matter right now. He's negligent in comparison. The cold glare coming from his eyes, the identical shade to my own, can't make me numb, the way he's judging me and criticizing me can't provoke a reaction. His eyes scan Miley with surprise; he can't believe she was consenting to the sin I will be blamed for. Lacing his words is venom. I'm no sister of his. What would his friends think?

The other figure steps forward into view.

"Lillian?"

It is then, as my heart splinters, that my nightmares become reality.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N: Deepest apologies for the delay. **


End file.
